Deliverance
by puerta de las estrellas
Summary: Based on the episode "Critical Mass." The Goa'uld have infiltrated Atlantis. J/T. Complete.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Deliverance, Chapter 1 of 9  
><strong>Rating:<strong> M  
><strong>Warnings:<strong> None  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong>I don't own Stargate or its characters.

**Comments:** This story is loosely based on the episode "Critical Mass." Emphasis on "loosely." It's set somewhat before the canon episode. Some lines are taken directly from the episode and belong to the writers and producers. "Critical Mass" was written by Brad Wright & Carl Binder.

**Deliverance**

"General Landry?" queried Walter, sticking his head around the door of General Landry's office. He winced when he saw that the General had been reaching for the phone—Landry hated being interrupted when he was about to make a phone call. Of course, the General hated being interrupted at all, and Walter was usually the one who had to do it.

"Yes?" Landry grunted.

"Agent Barrett is here to see you; says it's urgent," Walter ventured.

"The NID thinks everything is urgent. Hell, if we're out of jello in the mess hall, it's urgent." Landry sighed and rubbed his hand across his forehead. "Fine. Send him in."

Walter backed away, thanking his lucky stars that he wasn't Barrett, and went to find Barrett waiting in the conference room. "The General will see you now," Walter informed him, and scuttled back to the control room.

"General Landry, thanks for seeing me." Barrett tried to keep his tone conversational. He was well aware the General wasn't happy to see him and would be even less happy after Landry heard what he had to say.

Landry scowled at Barrett. "This better be good. I was getting ready to make an important phone call to the Secretary of State. Get on with it."

Barrett jumped right in, happy to dispense with the small talk. "Sir, this morning we received intelligence from one of our operatives embedded in the Trust. He delivered this information at great personal danger to himself, but believed it was important enough to risk it."

Landry just lifted his eyebrows questioningly at Barrett, making it clear that he wasn't impressed yet.

Barrett plunged ahead. "Sir, this operative has discovered that the Goa'uld have infiltrated the highest levels of the Trust. In fact, we now know that they've reached such a high level of influence that they've been able to place a symbiote in key personnel attached to the SGC." He was cutting out all the extra information about how difficult it had been to acquire this information and the sacrifice involved, because knew Landry wanted him to cut to the chase.

Landry lowered his eyebrows, suddenly concerned. "How key of personnel are we talking about?"

"Well, sir, we're now positive that they have an operative in Atlantis." Barrett held his breath, hoping the General wouldn't take his shock out on him.

Landry was stunned into silence for a minute. "You're telling me there's a Goa'uld in Atlantis?" Barrett could see the storm clouds gathering on the General's brow. "Who is it?"

Barrett sighed. This was the part of the conversation he'd been dreading. "Sir, we don't actually know who it is. All we know is that member of the expedition is carrying a Goa'uld."

Landry stood from his desk, chair shooting away from him to crash into the wall behind. "What good is this information if we can't tell Atlantis who the infected person is?" he shouted, coming out from around his desk.

Barrett stood as well, trying to stay calm. "I realize that it's not a lot of information to go on, sir, but the NID thought it was important enough to warn the SGC as soon as possible."

Landry scowled again. "What exactly is this Goa'uld's objective in Atlantis?" he growled.

Barrett winced. "Um, well, we're not quite sure of that yet, sir. But we're definitely going to keep working on finding that information."

"You don't know who the Goa'uld is, you don't know why it's there... what do you know, Barrett?" the General roared, brows bristling.

"We thought it was at least worth warning Atlantis while we worked on gathering more intel, sir. I can assure you that we won't rest until we find more information," Barrett said earnestly.

Landry calmed down a little at that. "I suppose so. All right. We'll warn Atlantis, but I want a report from you soon with a lot more information. Don't disappoint me, Barrett," Landry grunted. He turned from Barrett to sit at his desk again.

Barrett hesitated, not sure if he should wait for further instructions. Landry glanced up at him. "What are you waiting for? Get that information!" he yelled.

Barrett retreated from the office quickly, taking a deep breath and loosening his tie a little. That had gone better than he'd expected.

.

000

.

Elizabeth Weir sat at her desk, busily working at her computer. At least she hoped that's how it appeared—she was playing solitaire, trying to pass the half hour before the day's check-in with the SGC. Playing solitaire always reminded her of the day Colonel Caldwell had come into her office and made that first overture of friendliness. They'd played chess and she'd been surprised by how genial and funny he was when he wasn't in full colonel-mode. She'd really enjoyed that first game—he'd beaten her but she'd definitely given him a run for his money.

But the following day John had been infected with the Iratus retrovirus, and Elizabeth had spent the week furious at Steven for his insensitivity in making sudden changes to the way John ran the base. She had warned Caldwell that he didn't want to be her enemy, and he had left a few days later to return to Earth.

Weeks later when the Daedalus had returned to Atlantis, Steven had come to her office his first night in the city to play chess. They didn't discuss what had happened the last time he was here, and Elizabeth had been relieved. She didn't really want to rehash it. Although he was an abrasive, hardened military man, he was always frank. She appreciated his candor—he never equivocated about his ambitions or methods and she had to respect that.

He had come again the next evening to play, and the next. She was surprised by how much of the time she spent laughing—Steven had a great sense of humor and a dry delivery that made her laugh until her stomach hurt, something she hadn't done much of since coming to Atlantis.

Steven had surprised her in many ways; when he wasn't on duty, the caustic sarcasm dropped away and he was just a normal guy, eager to talk about anything but work—news events, sports, even art. He was well-read and surprisingly open-minded, and Elizabeth began to sincerely enjoy his company and look forward to their evening chess matches.

And then she had had a particularly stressful day; Rodney was being bratty about the new paper work protocols and she had spent the entire morning doing mindless paperwork of her own, filling out the exhaustive forms the IOA demanded every week. She had still been toiling mindlessly when Steven had come that evening to play chess, and she had been full of relief and nearly giddy at the prospect of a few hours free from thoughts about work. They'd finished their second game, which she had won, and she had teased Steven about his "brilliant military strategy."

"I have a couple of micro brews I've been saving for a rough day. Would you like one?" she had offered impulsively.

"Sure," Caldwell had replied. "But don't think beer will distract me from winning this next match," he joked, then looked around the room. "Do you want me to get them?" he asked.

"Actually, they're in my quarters," Elizabeth had said quietly, her heart pounding a little at her brazenness.

"Oh." He'd fallen silent for a moment, looking down at the pad they'd been playing on. He looked up again, smiling, and replied, "Okay."

She had grinned back at him. "Alright. Let's go." She had stood and crossed to the door, but Steven cleared his throat and she turned to look at him.

"Maybe I'll meet you there in a few minutes," he had said quietly, looking up at her, and she could tell he was hoping she wouldn't misunderstand his reticence.

She smiled reassuringly. "I think that's a good idea," she had said softly, knowing that the need for discretion was important to them both.

True to his word, he had shown up a few moments after she was in her room, and she met him at the door with a beer. "Come in," she had said, smiling and trying to push down her sudden shyness, but he hadn't hesitated, just taken the beer and stepped right in.

They had played chess every night for the rest of the week, and she was pleased to realize that he had no expectations, no requirements; they were merely enjoying each other's company. They were both entirely committed to their careers, with no room for romantic relationships, but the need for some kind of personal interaction was still there and they could fulfill that for each other, no strings attached. They didn't discuss the nature of their relationship, and in public there was no indication of a change between them.

That last night before he returned to Earth, they were lying silently in her bed when he had suddenly asked, "So, where are we on the whole being enemies thing?"

She turned to him. "We're not enemies right now," she had said lightly.

"And in public?" he had queried, smiling.

"All bets are off," she said quietly.

"I can live with that," he had murmured.

Elizabeth sighed and dragged her mind back to the present. That had been over six weeks ago, and Caldwell had been back in Atlantis now for two days. He hadn't come for a chess match yet, but she knew he was busy and it didn't bother her. He'd been distant that first day, his greeting strictly professional, but that was what she wanted from him and what she knew he wanted from her. But she was looking forward to their next chess match.

The muted sounds of conversation filtered from the control room into her office and she realized it was time for the dial out. She stepped from her office into the control room, tucking a strand of hair behind her ears. "Okay, Chuck, dial the gate. Time to check in."

.

000

.

Dr. Weir strode into the conference room and immediately Ronon knew something was wrong. It was the set of her mouth and the way she held her shoulders that told him she had bad news. He always liked to get to the team meetings early—it gave him a chance to watch everyone come in and to observe their mood.

Most people thought of him as a forest tracker, the guy who could follow broken twigs and footprints anywhere. But being a good tracker wasn't necessarily about knowing what to look for—it was knowing _how_ to look. Being observant was a skill you never stopped using, not if you wanted to survive. Body language and non-verbal signals could tell you more about someone's intentions than words ever could.

Lounging in his chair, arms crossed, Ronon checked out the rest of the team. Teyla looked tense, and was angling her head away from his side of the room. He wasn't sure what that was about, but he filed it away for future reference. Sheppard sat down with his relaxed, casual air that Ronon knew always masked a tightly coiled tension, and it was one of the reasons he respected Sheppard so much—it was hard to get the drop on him.

McKay was tapping away at his laptop, and Ronon knew he was speculating about the contents of this meeting, the theory he was developing about some indecipherable equation, and what he was going to eat for lunch, all at the same time.

Caldwell sat to Ronon's left. Ronon was having a hard time getting a read on him lately, but Caldwell seemed pretty straightforward today, military bearing and sarcastic smirk in place as he reclined in his chair, arms resting on the table.

"Okay, people, we have a bit of a situation," Weir announced from the head of the table, and all eyes turned to her. "We just had our check-in with the SGC, and we have an intelligence report from the NID that's a little disturbing."

Ronon saw Sheppard lean forward almost imperceptibly in his chair, and figured that Weir hadn't had time to brief him before the meeting. Teyla finally turned her head toward the front of the room, but her arm was tense as she rested it on the table.

"An Agent Barrett from the NID has reported some surprising information to General Landry, and the General thought it was important we receive it as soon as possible," Weir continued. "Apparently the Goa'uld have gained more influence in government agencies than previously thought." She took a deep breath, looking down at her laptop, and Ronon waited for the other shoe to drop. "A member of the Atlantis expedition has been taken over by a parasite. There is a Goa'uld in Atlantis."

The room became hushed and Ronon surmised that this was information was shocking in some way, but he didn't really know what Weir was talking about.

"What's a Goa'uld?" he asked. He understood more of the ins and outs of the SGC than he let on, but this was a new one to him.

"It's a slimy, snaky alien creature that burrows into people's heads and takes control of their bodies," Sheppard explained flatly, and turned to Dr. Weir. "So who's the Goa'uld?"

Dr. Weir looked down again at the computer in front of her and Ronon saw an expression of frustration flit across her face, although he didn't think it had anything to do with Sheppard. She looked back up and stated evenly, "We don't know which member of the expedition has been infected."

Sheppard leaned forward in irritation, scowling. "Well, then what good is the information except to freak us out? There are hundreds of people in the city and we can't put every one of them under a scanner right now." He was clearly irritated.

Weir sighed, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. "I know. There's not a lot of information to go on here. General Landry assured us that the NID is doing their best to gather more useful intelligence and that they will keep us updated, but he wanted to give us this initial report as a warning."

"So what are your plans for addressing this threat? What, if anything, can we do with so little to go on?" Caldwell spoke quietly, and Ronon thought he seemed pretty calm about the whole situation.

"Can't we just pinpoint this person's location using the Ancient alien detector in the control room?" Sheppard asked.

"We could, if they were your run-of-the-mill Pegasus alien. But the Goa'uld are parasites," McKay broke in impatiently.

"Are you saying you can't pick up small aliens?" Sheppard was sarcastic.

McKay rolled his eyes. "I'm saying that if the detector was calibrated to that level of sensitivity, it would pick up every tapeworm, bedbug, and tick that came through the gate, and the glut of information would be useless."

Sheppard made a disgusted face that almost made Ronon laugh. "You could've just said 'other parasites.' You didn't have to be so specific," Sheppard muttered.

"Yes, yes, yes, you're grossed out. Moving on." McKay cleared his throat. "I could have tried to fiddle around with the Ancient life signs detector to see if I could calibrate it to search for Goa'uld," he frowned. "But in order to do that, I'd need more specific data on Goa'uld physiology. The SGC should have thought of that when they were sending their uber-helpful warning," he said, smugly disappointed.

"Actually, they did send along the medical specs they have on the Goa'uld," Weir responded patiently.

"They did? Oh." McKay looked surprised, then placated. "I suppose I could throw something together, then. It might take awhile... the calculations would be very complex." He hesitated. "Zelenka hasn't gotten around to examining the device thoroughly yet," he finished. Ronon suppressed a smile at how McKay had, as usual, managed to shift any sort of blame to someone else.

"And I will get started on interviews with the members of the expedition," Weir stated.

"What, you're going to interview every single person in the city?" Caldwell countered caustically. "That might take a few weeks, and I'm not sure how effective that would be."

"Yeah, that hasn't worked so well in the past," Sheppard said almost inaudibly, and glanced sideways at Teyla, who returned his gaze briefly then turned back to Elizabeth with the smooth expression Ronon recognized as the face Teyla used to hide her thoughts, and he wondered what that was all about.

Elizabeth looked away from Teyla with what Ronon thought might be a tinge of embarrassment and sighed. "At this point, we don't have a lot of options. Colonel Caldwell and Colonel Sheppard, I would like you to organize the interviews for those under your command and submit a schedule to me as soon as possible. I will draw up a schedule for the civilians." She looked up at the group. "The only thing we can do for the moment is to keep our eyes open for any unusual behavior from members of the expedition."

Ronon looked down at his leg, picking at the laces that hung from the belt. He wondered idly if his old taskmaster Kell had had one of these snakes in his head. Ronon wished he had—it would have made the betrayal easier to understand. He sighed and hauled himself up out of the chair, shaking his head to rid his mind of pointless speculation about the past. He tried to look forward to the moment when he would get to shoot this snake thing, whoever it was.

.

000

.

"Charin," called Teyla warmly as she crossed from the tent entrance to embrace her elderly friend, hugging her close and thinking not for the first time that she may not have very many hugs such as these left. She reveled in the feel of Charin's arms around her and the flowery smell of Charin's soap, a scent that she remembered from childhood.

"Teyla," uttered Charin. "It is good to see you." The older woman smiled broadly at her, and Teyla was happy to see that she appeared energetic and healthy.

"You remember my friend, Dr. Carson Beckett?" Teyla gestured to Carson as he entered the tent.

"Of course. Welcome, Dr. Beckett," said Charin warmly. "It is good to see you again. We can never repay the kindness you have done to our people."

"It's my pleasure, Charin. Your people have been very good to us, as well," Carson smiled at her, crossing the room to pat her hand. "You seem to be feeling well," he remarked to the older woman.

Charin's eyes slid to Teyla and she smiled knowingly. "Yes, I am doing well, Dr. Beckett. You need not worry about me. Perhaps you would like to join us for some tuttleroot soup?"

"Charin, please call me Carson. And I'm afraid I'll have to pass on the lovely offer of soup. I just ate lunch in Atlantis and I'm off to examine a few of my patients." Carson stepped to the entrance of the tent and glanced back. "I'll be back for you in about an hour, Teyla."

"Thank you, Carson. I will be ready," replied Teyla, nodding. She watched as the doctor left and turned to Charin to see the old woman grin and shake her head. Teyla knew she had been caught.

"Teyla, I am not so old as to be fooled by Carson's 'casual' visit," Charin chuckled over at Teyla from where she stood at the work table. She moved around the table, bowls of steaming soup in her wrinkled hands, and came to sit next to Teyla on the broad wooden bench where she was perched.

Teyla grinned sheepishly. "Charin, I merely asked him to check on you and see that you looked healthy. And you are, for which I am grateful," she added, taking the bowl from Charin's hand.

"I appreciate your concern for me, Teyla. But I am doing quite well. I have recovered from my bout of sickness and I am feeling energetic," Charin replied gently.

"Very well," commented Teyla, smiling. "Let us discuss more pleasant topics. How is the harvest?" She took her first spoonful of soup and savored the taste—no one made tuttleroot soup like Charin's.

They spent the rest of their meal discussing the latest Athosian gossip, and Teyla regaled Charin with stories of her team members and the efforts of the Earth expedition to protect the people of Pegasus. Trying to soak in every moment she had with her friend, Teyla sat with her shoulder touching Charin's—these times with Charin were so very precious to her. Teyla endeavored to visit Charin as often as possible; she was the closest thing Teyla had to family. She dreaded the day when the older woman would go to join the Ancestors and leave her alone, with no family.

Finally Charin rose from the bench and began to clean up the remnants of their meal. "Let me do that," urged Teyla. "Sit here and tell me more news of my people." Teyla busied herself, wiping up crumbs and cleaning out their bowls, relieved to have something to occupy her hands.

"Teyla, I wish to hear more from you about how _you_ are faring," said Charin insistently.

"I told you of our missions and events in the city," Teyla reminded her. "Do you wish to hear more of the other worlds I have visited recently?"

"No, I wish to hear about _you_, Teyla. What is in your heart? Do you miss your people? Do you feel lonely in Atlantis?" Charin spoke softly, eyes lifted to search Teyla's face.

Teyla's hands stilled and she looked down at them, noticing the calluses that had already built up from carrying the Earth weapons. "I do miss my people. It is sometimes difficult to be the only Athosian amidst a city of people all from the same world. Of course with the exception of Ronon; he has been a great comfort to me," Teyla responded quietly.

"And do you have feelings for this Ronon?" asked Charin, teasingly.

Teyla looked up and grinned faintly at her friend. "No, Charin, I do not feel toward Ronon in that way. He is like a brother to me." She shifted uncomfortably, not sure of the direction in which the conversation was going.

"Come, Teyla, I have known you all your life. I helped your father raise you after your mother was gone. Surely you can speak to me of these matters... indulge an old woman's whim." Charin smiled up at Teyla appealingly from where she sat on the bench.

Teyla relaxed and returned Charin's smile. "Of course," she replied, and moved around the table, sitting astride the bench to face Charin. Charin had been as a grandmother to her, and Teyla knew there was nothing too personal for her to share with her old friend.

"Then you do not have someone special in your life?" queried Charin, eyebrows raised in concern.

.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

**Title:** Deliverance, Chapter 2 of 9  
><strong>Rating:<strong> M  
><strong>Warnings:<strong> None  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong>I don't own Stargate or its characters.

**Comments:** This story is loosely based on the episode "Critical Mass." Emphasis on "loosely." It's set somewhat before the canon episode. Some lines are taken directly from the episode and belong to the writers and producers. "Critical Mass" was written by Brad Wright & Carl Binder.

**Chapter 2**

Shifting on the bench to rearrange her legs, Teyla examined her hands again, then finally looked into Charin's eyes. Charin's question as to whether she had anyone special in her life greatly unnerved Teyla.

"Charin, there is no one from our settlement for whom I hold that type of interest," she said honestly. She thought briefly of her childhood friend, Kanaan, but knew there had never been that kind of spark between them.

Reaching to grasp Teyla's hand, Charin said lightly, "And why must it be someone from our people?"

Teyla raised one eyebrow in surprise. "I have never considered someone outside of our people, Charin." she said slowly. "As a leader among the Athosians, I must set an example. And as we are fewer in number than ever before, it is important that we remain a unified people."

Charin chuckled, patting Teyla's hand. "Always so serious. So much responsibility," she said, smiling at Teyla. "Do you not long to share the burden of leadership with another?"

Confused, Teyla turned to the table, running her fingers over the worn grain of the wood. "Charin, I could never expect our people to allow someone who was not Athosian to lead them simply because I was... interested in that person."

"Who said anything about leading?" asked Charin, leaning forward to peer into Teyla's face.

"Charin, I am confused. You asked if I wanted to share the burden of leadership." Teyla turned back to her friend, frowning slightly and feeling strangely unsettled by the topic.

Charin sighed and spoke slowly. "Teyla, to share the yoke of leadership does not mean that your partner in turn becomes a leader of your people. You simply share the stress and burdens of the position, confiding in them and taking comfort in their closeness," said Charin gently.

Teyla was quiet, taking in Charin's words. For so long she had felt set apart, not only because of the Gift, but also because she felt isolated as a leader—she must always be an example and not be swayed by friendships or affection. It had been so long since she had given serious thought to a romance of her own. The thought of John Sheppard rose unbidden, and she pushed it down as she had many times. But then she paused... was this not precisely what Charin was saying? That simply because someone was not of her people did not mean she could not have feelings for them or—Teyla quickly cut off the thought. She had always believed that John was forbidden to her, but now Charin's words were stirring up doubt, and it made her feel adrift and uncertain.

Charin gave Teyla a piercing look and Teyla shifted uncomfortably under it, but Charin did not press Teyla to reveal her thoughts.

Instead, Charin changed the subject. "Teyla, you are too young to remember my husband, Syrus. He was taken by the Wraith before you were born."

Teyla nodded. She had not heard much of Syrus but knew that he and Charin had been deeply in love. Charin stood and moved to the other side of the table.

"Did you know that Syrus was not of our people?" Charin asked, watching Teyla out of the corner of her eye.

Teyla looked up at Charin quickly, shocked. Charin had not often discussed Syrus, but Teyla thought she would have been made aware of this before now. "No," she replied slowly, "I did not."

Charin began chopping dried leaves and assumed a casual air, but Teyla realized that her friend had indeed not changed the subject and was as intent on the previous vein of questioning as before.

Charin nodded, and Teyla could see she was pleased to have surprised her with this bit of information. "I met him on Tynnia when I was there to trade. We were very young."

Teyla bit her lip, thoughtful for a moment. "And how did the Athosians respond to your choice of mate?" she said quietly, curious for Charin's answer.

"Oh, they were very unhappy with me in the beginning. But it was not long before they saw that Syrus and I were made for each other and accepted him as one of our own. We often spent time on his world as well." Charin finished chopping the leaves and used her hand to brush the fine mixture from the table top into a cloth bag.

Charin lifted her eyes from her task to look at Teyla. "Teyla, unfortunately, most peoples in the galaxy must live in small groups because of the Wraith. It is not reasonable to assume that everyone will find a suitable mate within their own tribe," she said gently, holding Teyla's gaze for a moment. "Perhaps for some, there are not enough to choose from among their own people. They must follow a different path."

For a moment they were both silent as Teyla absorbed what Charin was saying.

"Now," Charin said briskly. "That is enough of that topic." She came from behind her work table and handed Teyla the cloth bag that she had tied shut with twine. "Here," she said, pressing it into Teyla's hand. "Take this, and when you miss your people very much, brew a cup of tea and remember that we are with you always, even if it is only in spirit." She smiled down at Teyla kindly.

"Ready to go, luv?" Carson appeared in the tent entrance. "No rush if you're still visiting."

"No, I am ready, Carson. I will join you momentarily," Teyla told him, and Carson nodded, disappearing. She stood from the bench and pulled Charin into a fierce hug. "Charin," she whispered, voice wavering slightly, "I do not know what I would do without you."

Charin returned the embrace, then pulled back to look Teyla full in the face. "Teyla, when I am gone, you will still have the strength you have always had in your heart. That will not change," she said softly.

Teyla rested her forehead on Charin's gently, then turned to leave the tent. "Until next time," she said over her shoulder.

"Goodbye, Teyla," said Charin quietly.

Lost in her thoughts on the jumper ride home as they returned to Atlantis from the mainland, Teyla was startled when Carson spoke.

"Penny for your thoughts," he remarked.

"Excuse me?" Teyla replied, confused at his choice of words.

"It's an Earth expression, dear. It just means that I noticed you're deep in thought and I'm wondering if you're okay," he explained, a dimple appearing with his friendly smile.

Teyla sighed and smiled back at him. "I am fine." She returned her gaze out the window to the water rushing past. Charin's words had truly unsettled her, bringing up thoughts she had not visited in a long time. For so long, Teyla had cut herself off from personal relationships because she felt as a leader it was necessary to remain strong and independent.

In the last years, she had grown quite close to several people in Atlantis, especially her teammates, and it sometimes made her nervous when she realized how vulnerable she had become to that connection. But it had been so wonderful; such a release to let down her walls a little, to feel that personal interaction, and it had felt safe because they were not the Athosians, toward whom she held so much responsibility. She had so much in common with these people from Earth: their drive, their spirit, their sense of adventure. And the dangerous situations in which they frequently found themselves had brought the members of her team even closer.

And now Charin was telling that even that closeness was not enough. That she should open herself up even further, to drop her walls and allow herself to find a mate, even if he wasn't Athosian. The thought terrified Teyla. The idea of becoming so vulnerable to someone, to show someone how she felt—whether he responded or not—was too frightening.

Teyla turned back to Carson. "Carson, do you think it is possible for two people from different cultures to make a life together?"

She could see that Carson was surprised by her question, although he kept his eyes on the controls as he still was not completely confident in piloting the jumper. He paused for a moment, looking thoughtful, then responded slowly, "I do think that it's easier for two people to be together if they have certain things in common. Things like background and religion and politics."

He was quiet for a moment, and Teyla thought Carson had finished, but then he added, "But I suppose I'm enough of a hopeless romantic to think that if two people truly love each other, then there's nothing that can keep them from building a life together."

He glanced over at her, then back at the controls. "What brought this on, luv?"

Teyla sat up straighter and brushed the wrinkles from her pants. "Nothing," she said quickly. "Charin was just telling me stories about her husband; he was not Athosian."

Carson just nodded. Teyla sighed and gazed out the window again. They had almost reached Atlantis and she felt a knot of anxiety in her stomach pull tighter. She had tried to stay away from the city lately and away from Colonel Caldwell, but she couldn't avoid being in the city some of the time. She had decided to give it one more day before she spoke to John about Colonel Caldwell's odd behavior of late.

.

0

.

"Agent Barrett," greeted General Landry. "Tell me you have good news."

Entering the General's office from where he stood in the doorway, Barrett felt nervous as always when conversing with the brusque man. "I do have a bit of good news, sir, although it's not the detailed report we're still working on."

Landry frowned and stopped tapping at his computer to lean forward, hands folded in front of him on the desk. "All right, what have you got?"

"We now know that this Goa'uld operative embedded in Atlantis is still early on in his assignment. The Goa'uld wanted to place one of their own to gather information and intelligence about Atlantis. Apparently this operative is still in the early stages of this process and does not yet have orders for a specific task. He's still just sending information back to his superiors."

Landry sat back with an appeased air. "So what you're telling me is we've caught this pretty early on?"

"Exactly, sir. Although we're still working hard to gather the necessary information so we can stay a step ahead of the Goa'uld." Barrett was relieved for once to have pleased the General, even if marginally.

"Was there something else, Agent?" Landry inquired, eyebrows raised in question.

"Just a small thing, really. We did manage to discover the identity of this particular Goa'uld," Barrett replied. "Apparently he's a system lord who has been on the outs with the other Goa'uld for a long time. He's not very popular among those in power.

Barrett cleared his throat and continued. "His name is Hedjwer. I spoke to Dr. Jackson and he gave me this description." Pulling a paper from the stack of files in front of him, Barrett read from it: "'The ancient Egyptians knew Hedjwer as the god of virility. He represented male dominance and had a violent temper.'" He looked up from the file. "Our informant also adds that this particular Goa'uld is known for his, uh, unusual appetites," he added nervously.

Landry leaned forward again, placing his hands on the desk and frowning again. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Agent Barrett shifted uncomfortably. "He's known, for his, uh, voracious appetite for women and has a history of assault."

Landry looked disturbed and his frown deepened, and he stood up, gesturing to dismiss Barrett. "Okay. Go ahead and include that information in the report we're sending to Atlantis this afternoon."

"Yes, sir." Barrett nodded, gathering his things and moving from the room. As he walked down the corridor, he read through the report on Hedjwer again. There were quite a few examples of his disturbing behavior and it turned Barrett's stomach to think of it. He'd been too uncomfortable to share the details with General Landry, but he figured he'd send the entire report on to Atlantis and let them deal with the situation.

.

0

.

John Sheppard bounded up the stairs to the control room, telling himself he wasn't going just to check on Teyla. He'd been a little worried about her lately—actually, he was worried about Colonel Caldwell. Ever since Caldwell's recent return to Atlantis, John thought the Colonel had been acting oddly.

He noticed it the first day Caldwell was back when he saw the Colonel staring at Teyla. The look on Caldwell's face was almost a leer and John had been taken aback. He'd had his own disagreements with Caldwell in the past, but he still respected him as an officer and thought of him as an upstanding guy, so he was surprised to see behavior unbecoming of an officer, as it were.

John had noticed it again the next day in the morning briefing and then again later in the gate room—Caldwell was actually ogling Teyla and trying to catch her eye. John was pretty sure Teyla was aware of Caldwell's actions, because she had started to angle her head away from the Colonel during meetings and seemed to try to stand out of his line of sight at other times.

John was confused about Caldwell's behavior because it seemed so out of character, but the fact that he was bothering Teyla had John wondering if he should say something to Caldwell, even though the man was his superior officer.

John reached the top of the stairs and was surprised to find the control room deserted with the exception of Chuck and one other tech.

"Sergeant." He nodded. "This place is a ghost town. Where is everybody?" John strolled to the railing, resting his hands on it and looking over the gate room and the surrounding corridors.

Chuck glanced up from the console to his computer screen and thought for a moment. "Let's see... Teyla went off world to visit Orrin and his family; McKay is with Zelenka in the lab working on configuring the life signs detector; Ronon's in the gym training Marines."

John turned back to face him and idly ran a hand along a console. "And Dr. Weir?" he prompted.

Chuck inclined his head toward the conference room. "She's still conducting interviews with expedition members. She'll take a break later this afternoon for the scheduled dial-in with Earth."

"Isn't Caldwell supposed to sit in on all those meetings?" John frowned.

"Colonel Caldwell took the Daedalus to M4X-963 for training exercises and to work on calibrating the sub-light engines."

John blew out a puff of air, feeling bored. "Okay, guess I'll head down and watch Ronon beat up Marines."

He placed one foot on the first stair and paused. That gate address sounded really familiar. "M4X-963. Isn't that where we relocated Orrin and his family to?"

Chuck tapped a few keys and lifted his eyebrows. "Hmm. I guess it is. Same planet."

John could feel the gears begin to turn in his mind, but he felt slow, almost stupid. Caldwell and Teyla being on the same planet... that couldn't be a coincidence. He turned back to Chuck. "Did Caldwell and Teyla leave together?"

Chuck shook his head. "No, Teyla went through the gate right before I came on duty, and Caldwell left on the Daedalus about thirty minutes after I got here." He looked momentarily puzzled. "I guess nobody noticed it was the same address."

A cold sensation began to work its way from John's hands up his arms. He tried to think faster. Why would Caldwell choose that planet? And what kind of training exercises did the crew of the Daedalus need, anyway? They were supposed to be the best of the best. He ran a hand through his hair and took a step back toward Chuck. "How long have you been on duty?"

Chuck looked perplexed at the line of questioning. "About two hours."

"How far away is that planet by hyperspace?" John asked, trying to keep the worry out of his voice.

Chuck consulted the screen again. "One hour. It's in a system pretty close to ours."

John nodded. Maybe it was just a coincidence.

But the pit of his stomach told him otherwise. It didn't sound right. Caldwell was acting really odd lately, and this just clinched it that something was up.

"You know, I think I'll join Teyla. I'm gonna go get my gear and I'll be back," he said thoughtfully. Chuck just nodded and turned back to his work.

John walked down the stairs and slowly headed down the corridors of the city, trying to sort out his thoughts. He had noticed Teyla spending time away from the city in the last few days, always going to the mainland or joining good-will missions, and he wondered if it was to stay away from Caldwell. Had Caldwell said something to her?

And Caldwell was acting really weird lately. _Unusual behavior_. Hadn't he heard that phrase recently? At a briefing or something?

John's stomach dropped.

Was Caldwell the Goa'uld?

It would make sense. His odd behavior, this sneaking off in the Daedalus. And he'd noticed that Caldwell hadn't been having his usual chess games with Weir. John hadn't thought much of it, just figured they had stopped playing in her office, but now it seemed like one more odd thing to add to the list. What Caldwell wanted with Teyla, John didn't know, but judging from the way Caldwell had been looking at her lately, it wasn't a friendly chat.

John picked up the pace and started to jog toward the locker room.

If Teyla had left for Orrin's planet two hours ago, that meant she had an hour and a half before Caldwell got there. An hour and a half was just about long enough for a friendly visit and then she would head back to the gate by herself...

John broke into a cold sweat and started to run.

When he got to the locker room, he threw on his tac vest and hesitated in front of a P-90. What if he was wrong? What if he was imagining all this, his worry for Teyla making him see things that weren't there? He didn't want to go off half-cocked here, make a big deal out of nothing. He wavered on the edge of resolve, but finally grabbed the weapon and moved out. This was a member of his team and there was no such thing as too careful.

John ran back down the corridors, his mind racing to work out the best plan of action. Every moment counted, and he couldn't take the time to have someone go find Ronon; he knew Ronon never wore his radio while sparring.

He tapped his radio. "Chuck, dial the gate—I'm almost there."

Slowing up as he entered the gate room, John turned to look up at Chuck as he walked toward the event horizon. "Tell Weir where I went. And tell her to send a team after me."

He was already at a run when he exited the gate and he just kept heading down the trail. He'd been to this planet when they'd resettled Orrin and his family, and knew the village was about a fifteen minute walk from the gate. At a dead run, he made it in a little over five minutes. A part of him was still hoping that he was just worked up over nothing, that he'd meet Teyla between the village and the gate, or she'd still be at Orrin's house; maybe she'd be irritated at his over-protectiveness. At this point that he'd be happy to take her irritation over the alternative.

As he approached Orrin's house at the edge of the village, John slowed to a jog, trying to catch his breath. Orrin opened the door when he knocked, looking surprised to see John standing there, clearly out of breath.

"Colonel Sheppard, I am surprised to see you. Is something wrong?" The old man looked concerned.

"Is Teyla still here?" John panted, tense with worry.

"No," replied Orrin, brow furrowed. "Teyla left some time ago. She was headed toward the gate last I saw her."

John turned and ran, too full of apprehension to bother with a polite explanation or even a goodbye. When he reached the woods at the edge of the village, he tapped his radio.

"Daedalus, this is Colonel Sheppard. Come in."

Captain Kleinman's surprised voice responded. "Colonel, this is the Daedalus. We weren't aware you were on the planet." There was a question in his tone but John ignored it.

"I'd like to speak to Colonel Caldwell," John panted, sprinting down the trail in the direction of the gate, boots flying over the dirt path.

"Colonel Caldwell's on the planet already, sir," Kleinman responded, sounding even more confused.

It was the answer John had been expecting, but his heart still dropped.

"Kleinman, I want you to beam him to the Daedalus immediately."

"Sorry, Colonel Sheppard, but Colonel Caldwell has us running a diagnostic on the transporter right now. It's off line."

John cursed mentally. Of course it was.

"Captain, is it possible for you to give me Colonel Caldwell's location by scanning for his transponder signal?" He pulled up as he reached the halfway point to the gate, waiting for a response.

After a few moments of silence, Kleinman's voice came over the radio. "Colonel Sheppard, we're picking up two transponders almost one klick southeast of your position relative to the Stargate."

John turned and began to run again, dodging through the trees and undergrowth.

"Captain, I want that beam back online immediately. Stand by for further orders, Daedalus," John puffed as he weaved through the forest, realizing that he needed to spend more time running with Ronon. As he ran, he thought about what he could do when he found them. He couldn't really shoot Caldwell; after all, this wasn't truly Caldwell; some alien entity was controlling him.

John swore under his breath for not thinking to bring a stunner with him. Hopefully it wouldn't come to shooting, but he could always try to disable the guy with a shot in the leg, and then subdue him.

John slowed his pace, listening for any sounds in the silence of the forest. He looked at the ground, wishing Ronon were here to help him track. Suddenly John heard a sound and pulled up short, ducking behind a tree. Trying to slow his breathing in order to hear better, he closed his eyes and held as still as possible.

It was a voice, and it sounded about 20 feet away, directly on the other side of the tree-covered rise in front of him. Quietly as possible, he crawled on his belly to the low hill, peering over the edge into a clearing. He saw Caldwell, crouched on the ground with a zip tie in his hand. John's breath caught when he saw that Caldwell was knotting it around a foot. Teyla.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

**Title:** Deliverance, Chapter 3 of 9  
><strong>Rating:<strong> M  
><strong>Warnings:<strong> None  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong>I don't own Stargate or its characters.

**Comments:** This story is loosely based on the episode "Critical Mass." Emphasis on "loosely." It's set somewhat before the canon episode. Some lines are taken directly from the episode and belong to the writers and producers. "Critical Mass" was written by Brad Wright & Carl Binder.

**Chapter 3**

John could see that Teyla was on the ground, leaned against a tree, hands bound in front of her. From the slump of her head, she was either unconscious or near it. A large smear of blood covered her left arm, and he could see more transferred to her shirt beneath her arm.

"Caldwell!" he yelled, standing without thinking, focused only on turning the man's attention from Teyla. John stepped over the rise and down into the clearing, walking slowly, and realized he'd already drawn his sidearm, so with his other hand he unclipped the P-90 from his vest and eased it to the ground. Caldwell turned to him with a baneful grin that made John's skin crawl.

"Colonel Sheppard. You arrived much sooner than I thought you would. You're more clever than I gave you credit for." Dropping the tie, Caldwell pulled a knife from behind him and turned to face John.

John stepped to the side, slowly circling closer to Caldwell over the graveled ground, both hands on the sidearm now leveled at the Colonel. "Caldwell, you're not yourself. Just put the knife down and we'll get you some help."

The repugnant laugh that came from Caldwell was like nothing John had heard from him, and when the Colonel's eyes lit up with an eerie glow, he knew that he wasn't talking to the real Caldwell.

"I suppose you are going to take me down and bring me in for this 'help' as you call it," sneered the Goa'uld.

"That's right," replied John, trying to keep Caldwell in his sights but hazarding a glance at Teyla. Her body was limp and her eyes were closed, and he could see her face was already bruised and swollen. He tore his gaze from her and turned his attention back to Caldwell, who was circling closer, knife in one hand.

"You know I now have the strength of many men," he said in a reverberating Goa'uld voice, looking more than happy about the impending fight. "Teyla was not able to defeat me, but you are welcome to try."

John contemplated the situation for a brief moment, the lowered his gun slightly and shot Caldwell in the left leg. The bullet went through the flesh of his calf, just missing bone. Caldwell froze and looked down at his leg, momentarily fazed. But after a second he looked back up at John, smiling. "You're going to have to do better than that, Sheppard."

Memories of Ford rose unbidden and John wished there was a dart now to scoop up Caldwell. But before John could give it another thought, Caldwell was rushing him at what seemed an impossible speed and had knocked him to the ground, and John's sidearm skittered away from him across the gravel.

The weight of the bigger man's body crushed John into the small stones beneath him and the knife gripped in Caldwell's hand descended over John's shoulder. John reached up and clenched the man's wrist, straining to keep Caldwell's knife just inches from plunging into him.

John rocked his body slightly to the left then used the momentum to swing right, rolling Caldwell over and using the grip on his wrist as traction to swing on top of him. Using his free hand, he punched Caldwell in the mouth three or four times before Caldwell recovered enough to deliver a punch to John's ribs, knocking the breath from him. They rolled over again in the gravel, John once again straining to keep the knife from his chest.

The fight dragged on as they rolled each other over, both throwing brutal punches, and John knew that he couldn't win—Caldwell's strength was far greater than his. John didn't want the Goa'uld to turn back to Teyla when he inevitably lost the fight, so John started to conserve his strength. Fighting less intensely meant he took a lot more hits, but he hoped that he could occupy Caldwell long enough for backup to arrive.

He was starting to feel serious muscle fatigue and he knew he wouldn't be able to hold up much longer. Caldwell was on him again, knife over his neck with John straining to keep it inches from his skin. John twisted his other hand up and away from Caldwell's weight, scrabbling behind his back for the knife holstered at his belt, but he couldn't quite reach it with Caldwell's shoulder pushing him further into the ground. He was losing the struggle to keep the knife from gashing into his upper chest when Caldwell tensed, every muscle in his body stiffening, then slumped over John, unconscious.

For the moment John was baffled, but he quickly pushed the dead weight of Caldwell's body off of him and pulled himself to his knees. He looked up to see Teyla, eyes half closed and head lolling back, lowering some kind of energy weapon in her bound hands and looking like hell.

"Teyla!" He rushed over, sliding his hand behind her neck to keep her sitting upright against the tree. He could see she was still conscious but extremely weak. Easing her to the ground, he realized that she must have somehow maneuvered herself to reach for Caldwell's zat gun and summoned the strength to shoot. John looked over at Caldwell, not wanting to turn his back on the man for too long, unconscious or not.

John reached up to tap his radio again. "Daedalus, this is Sheppard. You got that transporter working yet?"

"Just now, sir," responded Kleinman.

"I want you to beam Colonel Caldwell directly to the brig. Under no circumstances are you to release him from the holding cell. That's a direct order. Once you've got him, I want you to return to Atlantis immediately and wait for my orders. Is that understood?" John waited, holding his breath a bit, eyes on the Colonel. Caldwell outranked him, but he was hoping that Kleinman would go with him on this one.

After a moment's stunned silence, Kleinman's voice came over the radio, "Understood, sir. We'll see you back in Atlantis." John kept his eyes on Caldwell's body until it faded into the beam of white light, then turned back to Teyla.

He knelt down beside her and took the time now to really look at her injuries. He was horrified. Her face was battered and one eye was already swollen shut from a cut just beneath her eyebrow. Large bruises were already emerging on any visible skin, but most concerning was the blood that seemed to cover her left arm from wrist to elbow. He couldn't see the actual wound for all the blood, so he just pulled the field dressing from his vest and began to wrap it around her arm.

"Teyla, are you awake?" He patted her on the cheek, but she seemed to be fading in and out of consciousness. There was a wound on her forehead near her scalp and he figured she must have a concussion. "Teyla, talk to me." There was no response, so he continued to apply pressure to her bloodied arm and tried to spot any other injuries. "We're gonna get you back to Atlantis, okay?" He was keeping up his detached military manner, but the horror of what had happened was already curling in his gut.

Her ankles were bound together and he reached down to cut the ties, trying to stay calm and figure out a way to carry her out of here without exacerbating her injuries.

"Colonel Sheppard, come in."

He'd never been so glad to hear Lorne's voice in his life.

"Lorne, tell me you're in a jumper."

"Yes sir, I'm in a jumper and headed toward your life signs. We've got a medical team and Marines on board."

Turning back to Teyla, John's shoulders slumped in relief. He leaned close to her and said, "You feel like getting out of here?"

.

0

.

Weir met them in the jumper bay just as the medical team had gotten Teyla onto a gurney. John could see that there was a already storm brewing on Elizabeth's face, but when she saw Teyla's bruised and bloodied body, her eyes widened in shock.

"Is she okay?" breathed Elizabeth.

"She's going to be."

"How did this happen?" She looked stunned.

"Caldwell."

"_What?_" She turned to him, and John saw the blood drain from her face.

"He's the Goa'uld, Elizabeth," he said flatly. John hated to be the one to tell her, but he figured he was the one who should.

They fell into step behind the group exiting the jumper bay as Carson simultaneously questioned the medics and examined Teyla while walking beside the moving gurney. Elizabeth and John followed them, winding their way through the corridors toward the infirmary. Elizabeth was speechless for several minutes, but finally gathered her composure.

"How do you know Caldwell is the Goa'uld?" She sounded shell-shocked.

"He followed her to the planet," he said, knowing that explanation wasn't going to be enough for her. His tac vest was weighing on his shoulders like lead and he was hit suddenly by a wave of exhaustion.

"That's it?" she demanded. "He happened to take the Daedalus to the same planet as Teyla? How does that make him the Goa'uld?"

"Well, it was that and the whole glowy eyes thing," John replied, a little too caustically. "And the fact that he beat the shit out of her." He tried to keep the anger out of his voice and to remember that it wasn't actually Caldwell that had done all this.

"How do you know it was Caldwell that did this to her?" she insisted, looking over at John, arms crossed as they walked side by side up the corridor.

John tried not to feel irritated with her, because it must all be overwhelming to her, so he tried to help her understand. "Because, Elizabeth, I found him with her. And because he said he did."

He looked over at her and could see that she was reviewing the last week and reluctantly coming to the same conclusion he had: Caldwell had been off. It was clear now.

She was silent for some moments as they continued to walk, trying to absorb it all, her eyes down.

"John, why didn't you wait to talk to me before you left to find them?" she finally said, a bit forcefully.

He sighed heavily. "Do you really want to do this right now?"

She looked up at him, irritated. "Yes, John. You endangered yourself and the lives of others by not waiting for a team."

"I didn't have time, Elizabeth. I told Chuck to let you know where I went."

"Yes, I heard the whole thing over the radio, but that doesn't make it okay that you went off half-cocked on a rescue mission by yourself," she retorted.

He didn't say anything, just clenched his jaw and kept moving through the corridors quickly, Elizabeth rushing to keep up with his long strides.

She grasped at his arm, trying to pull even with him. "You didn't have fifteen extra minutes to wait for a team to join you?" He could hear the tinge of sarcasm in her voice and it sent him over the edge.

John pulled up short and turned to face her, his mouth drawn in an angry line. "No, Elizabeth, I didn't," he growled, glaring at her full in the face and jabbing his finger in the air for emphasis. "I didn't have even one minute."

He turned and walked on, leaving her astounded in his wake. She didn't say anything else as they continued down the hallways.

When they finally reached the infirmary, Ronon and Rodney were waiting for them. Ronon strode toward him—the big guy was pissed and John knew what was coming, but he wasn't in the mood for more questions.

"Yes, I know you wanted to come. No, I couldn't wait for you," John pre-empted, scowling.

Ronon looked surprised by John's outburst but seemed to take him at his word and just nodded, stepping back warily.

Rodney took his place. "What happened to Teyla?" he demanded. "We saw them take her in and she looks..." he hesitated. "Well, she looks terrible. What happened?"

John was getting tired of this. He didn't want to explain, didn't want to stand there talking about what had gone wrong, didn't want to go over it again. "Caldwell is the Goa'uld. He kidnapped Teyla. You can read the report when I'm done." He shoved past Rodney and went to stand by Carson's desk, arms crossed.

The guys and Elizabeth stared for a moment, then took the hint and left him alone. The four of them paced and fidgeted for what felt like hours, but it was only twenty minutes later that Carson came to find them.

"Rodney, Ronon, you can go see Teyla now," Beckett nodded. The men realized they were being dismissed and hurried off to find Teyla. John and Elizabeth turned to face Carson, waiting for his assessment of her injuries.

"She's going to be fine," Beckett said with a relieved air. "She's got a row of lacerations on her arm, which was the source of all the blood, but the cuts are relatively shallow, so they'll heal soon."

Elizabeth nodded, looking relieved as well. John shifted uncomfortably, staring at the floor.

"Beckett, did he... was she..." He couldn't finish the sentence and looked up at Carson, desperate, heart in his throat.

Carson gazed at him sympathetically. "No, she wasn't," he said firmly.

John could see out of the corner of his eye that Elizabeth was puzzled.

"She does have extensive bruising on her pelvic and pubic bones, though," Carson continued quietly. "So it looks like you got there just in time."

Elizabeth gasped. "Oh my god," she breathed, raising her hand to her mouth and stepping back. She finally understood.

They were all quiet for a moment and John felt light-headed with relief. Since the moment he'd begun to run to the locker room, this fear had been stuck in his throat, choking him with apprehension. He could hardly breathe during the flight back to Atlantis, trying not to think of what Caldwell might have done before he'd gotten there.

John breathed out a sigh and ran his hand through his hair, the tension in his body easing somewhat. "So what exactly is the extent of her injuries?"

"Well, she's in pretty good shape, considering. It looks like most of the wounds were inflicted during a struggle, although she probably lost consciousness for a while due to a head wound. She's got almost two dozen lacerations on her left arm, multiple contusions on her torso, arms, and legs, and two cracked ribs on her right side," Carson explained.

John nodded grimly. It wasn't good, but it was so much better than what he'd feared.

"Thank you, Carson," said Elizabeth faintly, and Carson nodded and moved away.

Turning to John, Elizabeth was silent for a moment, and he could see she was still trying to absorb it all.

"Where is Caldwell now?" she asked, dazed.

"He's in the brig on the Daedalus. Kleinman is on his way back here." John was feeling considerably calmer and his short temper was fading.

"How far out are they?" Elizabeth asked, twisting her hands together and looking off blankly somewhere over John's shoulder.

He checked his watch. "They'll probably get here in ten or fifteen minutes."

She finally looked at him, and her eyes were tortured. "What are we going to do with Stev—Colonel Caldwell when they get here?"

John ignored the slip. He knew this must be hard for her. He wasn't sure how close Elizabeth and Caldwell were, but he was pretty sure it went beyond playing chess. "I want him beamed down to a holding cell in the city. I'm not confident that the brig on the Daedalus is secure enough, and those Ancient cells are like Fort Knox. When we dial Earth, we can ask the SGC what they want us to do with him," he explained, arms crossed.

Elizabeth's eyes widened. "The dial in! I have to go—we're due in five minutes." She rushed off, and John watched her go. He knew she had a lot more questions that she would probably never ask.

.

0

.

Sitting on the edge of his bed, John was annoyed to see that his hands were trembling as he untied his bootlaces. Ronon and Rodney had sent him off to get cleaned up and to eat, promising they'd take turns sitting with Teyla. As he stepped into the shower, John noticed that there were still streaks of blood on his hand from when he had wrapped Teyla's arm. He stared at the marks for a moment, mind blank, then reached for the soap to scrub them away, watching the pink-stained suds race down the drain.

He ate alone in the deserted mess hall, choking down a sandwich, not because he was hungry, but because he knew he needed to eat, then he headed down to the infirmary. This was his favorite time of day in the city, late evening. Most people were in their quarters and it was quiet enough to hear the hum of the city, although he was never sure if he was hearing it or feeling it in his veins. But tonight he was insensible to it all, his mind numb with shock.

Rodney yelped when John touched him on the shoulder and leaped up from the chair beside Teyla's bed, where he'd been pecking away at his laptop. "Was it absolutely necessary to sneak up on me?" McKay demanded, peeved.

John didn't say anything, just glared at him. Rodney's face grew somber. "Right," he said slowly, turning down the attitude a bit.

John looked over at Teyla. "How's she doing?"

"Beckett's got her on some heavy-duty painkillers, so she's pretty sleepy. She fades in and out but seems to be comfortable." Rodney waited a moment, watching John. "See you later," McKay said abruptly, and made his exit.

John stood over Teyla, and the muscles of his stomach clenched with anxiety. Being here and seeing her injuries in person again brought the weight of the whole situation down on his shoulders once more. She looked much better than she had the last time he'd seen her, when she had been covered in blood and barely conscious, but even cleaned up, it was clear that she had taken quite a beating. Blue and black marks haloed one eye beneath a slice across her eyebrow, and her lower lip had a bloodied split in the corner.

Blue marks were rising in welts along her arms, and John assumed there were more on her legs. He noticed that she had cuts across knuckles on both hands, and he smiled slightly, realizing that Caldwell must have taken a few knocks of his own. John's eyes moved to her upper arm and his smile faded at the sight of what was clearly a large handprint composed of blue and purple bruises.

John sank into the chair, sighing. The disappointment that always followed a teammate's injury settled over him. He was responsible for them and it felt like a personal failure every time one of them came home with a fracture or cut or bullet wound.

He could have prevented this. He should have seen it coming. Should have spoken to Teyla, warned Elizabeth, confronted Caldwell. He had noticed Caldwell's behavior early on and should have followed his instincts, but he hadn't, and now Teyla was lying in the infirmary because he hadn't wanted to rock the boat.

He heard the slide of skin across sheets and looked up to see Teyla stirring. "Hey," he said softly, standing up and moving to the head of the bed, not sure where to situate himself, and settled for resting his hand on the mattress next to her pillow as he leaned over her.

Teyla opened her eyes sleepily and looked up at him. "John," she smiled slowly.

"How do you feel?" he said, searching her face, trying to get some read on her emotions.

"Wonderful," she grinned, eyelids fluttering shut again.

He laughed. "Yeah, Beckett's got you on some happy pills. Glad you're enjoying them."

She opened her eyes and blinked slowly. "Are you all right, John?"

"Yeah, I'm okay," he replied quietly, achingly amused at her concern for him despite what had happened to her.

Teyla nodded serenely, eyes closing again. For several minutes there was just the quiet beeping of machines and the hum of the city. John was moving to sit down again when she opened her eyes and held his gaze. After a moment's silence, he knew what she was wordlessly asking.

"He's in a holding cell at the other end of the city," he said, voice rough with restrained emotion. She nodded, waiting in turn for the question she knew he needed to ask.

"Teyla, what happened?" He needed to hear it from her, needed to be reassured.

She slid her palm down the side of the mattress and John realized she was looking for his hand. He reached up and gingerly put his left hand in hers, holding it in almost a handshake, but she wrapped her hand in a tight circle around his fingers.

Gazing up at the ceiling, she said in an even voice, "He met me when I had almost reached the gate and stunned me with the energy weapon before I even knew what was happening." The slow beep of the monitors punctuated her low tone and John kept his eyes on her hand.

"I believe I woke up sooner than he anticipated, while he was making the cuts on my arm." John flinched, but Teyla continued without pause. "I was able to take him unawares and we fought for some time, but after the blow to my head it was difficult to stay conscious. He tied my arms and legs and that is when you arrived." She smiled faintly. "He foolishly left the energy weapon too close to me."

Her steady tone and obvious calm surprised him only a little. He should have known that she would take this all in a stride, but he still worried about how she would feel later. And he knew that she was telling him just the bare bones of the story, that the struggle between her and Caldwell had probably gone on for some time and been violent.

"That is all that happened, John." She gazed into his eyes, and for a moment the fog of medication parted and he knew that she understood his one great fear, and he was reassured.

He watched her drift off again as she breathed deeply with a composed expression. He eased his hand from hers and returned to the chair.

The circling disappointment began to grow heavier and John struggled against the wave of emotion pushing at him. He was used to the bitter regret that followed any mission that didn't go as planned, but this crushing fear was different. It weighed on him, pushed him down, bit at him.

He cared about her too much.

He knew that now. The abject misery he'd felt as he had sat on the ground beside her, watching bright blood filter through the field dressing, was more than he'd ever felt, even on the worst of missions; worse than watching Aidan writhe in withdrawal on the floor of the hive ship, worse than Gall and Abrams being fed upon, even worse than when he'd believed Kolya had killed Elizabeth. Of course he'd felt those defeats personally; they were his teammates, his friends. But this was different. This was visceral, deep, gnawing. They had almost lost her. _He_ had almost lost her.

There had always been a spark with her, some kind of frisson of energy between them. He realized now that somewhere along the way it had turned into more than that for him, fed by the long days spent protecting each other and the closeness brought by shared hardship.

But apparently she didn't feel that way. The whole bug kiss thing had brought that home to him. She had totally shut him down—when he'd asked her if she was okay, she hadn't even responded, just told him Carson was waiting and ignored his question. And two weeks later when he came to the gym hoping to at least start some kind of dialogue, she had told him not to think about it. So he tried not to.

But far worse than unrequited feelings was that caring for her like this was dangerous. It would compromise the team, cloud his judgment. He needed to get it together and move past this, for the safety of the team. For Teyla's safety.

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

**Title:** Deliverance, Chapter 4 of 9  
><strong>Rating:<strong> M  
><strong>Warnings:<strong> None  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> I don't own Stargate or its characters.

**Comments:** This story is loosely based on the episode "Critical Mass." Emphasis on "loosely." It's set somewhat before the canon episode. Some lines are taken directly from the episode and belong to the writers and producers. "Critical Mass" was written by Brad Wright & Carl Binder.

**Chapter 4**

Shoulders slumped, Elizabeth read the file one more time, although she knew she was just torturing herself. Agent Barrett's report on the Goa'uld Hedjwer had arrived just after Teyla had been taken to the infirmary, and the information was too little, too late. Hedjwer's history of sexual assault was extensive, and the thought of what Hedjwer—through Caldwell—could have done to Teyla was sickening. Elizabeth hadn't shared the file with anyone but John; they had all already seen what Hedjwer was capable of.

Caldwell had been in the Lantean holding cell for almost a week now. The Daedalus had headed back to Earth and the SGC were waiting on the Tok'ra to be available to remove the symbiote, as Earth had no facility as secure as the one in Atlantis. Elizabeth knew that John wouldn't completely relax as long as Caldwell was in the city, but it hadn't been a request from the SGC so much as an order. As soon as the Tok'ra arrived at the SGC, Atlantis would be permitted to send Caldwell through for the extraction process.

The attitude in the city toward what had happened was one of thinly veiled disgust. Of course everyone knew that the Goa'uld was responsible for Caldwell's actions, but it was hard for people to separate the man from the crime. Elizabeth was just as appalled by the violence of the assault, but a part of her ached for the man trapped by the Goa'uld. She knew Steven would be horrified by what had happened and she felt his anguish.

A tear splashed onto Elizabeth's pad, blurring the text, and she wiped it away, inhaling deeply. There was nothing she could do for Steven at the moment and the best she could do for herself was to stay busy and competent.

A knock on the doorpost startled her, and she blinked rapidly, looking up to see Teyla.

"Teyla, come in," Elizabeth smiled. Teyla was looking much better—her face was no longer swollen and the bruises on her arms had faded to mottled green and yellow. Gauze was still wound around the row of horizontal cuts that spread from wrist to elbow. Elizabeth looked away from the bandage, remembering that the report had said the cuts were how Hedjwer marked his victims, a calling card of sorts.

Teyla eased herself into the chair stiffly. "Ribs still hurting?" Elizabeth asked softly.

Teyla nodded, serene as ever. "Dr. Beckett said they would take the longest to heal of all my injuries, but they do not hurt as they did, as long as I do not sneeze," she said, smiling.

"How are you feeling over all, Teyla?"

Teyla nodded her head confidently. "I feel much better. I still tire easily and my muscles are sore, but Carson said I am a quick healer."

"Somehow that doesn't surprise me," commented Elizabeth, smiling.

"I asked you here to discuss a few things," Elizabeth continued briskly. "What's this I hear about you trying to work with Dr. Brown in the botany lab, Teyla?"

Teyla's expression grew guilty and she looked down at her hands. "I simply offered to help her move a few plants, Dr. Weir. I would not have exerted myself dangerously," she said a bit defensively.

Elizabeth sighed. "Teyla, I took you off active duty. You are not on light duty. You are not to do any kind of work. You injuries will not heal and I'll be forced to keep you from working for even longer if you don't take it easy."

She leaned on her elbows across the desk, looking Teyla in the eye. "Although I certainly understand how you feel. It would be hard for me to rest as well," she added kindly.

Teyla nodded wearily with a small smile. "I will try to rest, Dr. Weir."

Elizabeth was quiet for a moment, watching Teyla rearrange the bandage on her arm.

"Teyla, is there a reason this is so difficult for you?"

Teyla looked up, surprised. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that it seems particularly difficult for you to let go of working." Elizabeth had a theory but didn't want to push advice on Teyla.

Teyla considered, looking to the side and raising her eyebrows. "It is difficult," she finally conceded. "I simply do not like sitting back as others do my work while I do nothing."

"You consider yourself a trader, correct? That is how you identify yourself?" Elizabeth asked.

Looking confused, Teyla shifted in her chair, still favoring her right side. "I suppose so," she said slowly.

"Do you know that you do not have to trade work for our friendship?" Elizabeth tried to say it softly.

Teyla's cheeks colored a little. "I know that, Dr. Weir."

Elizabeth looked down at her desk, not wanting to embarrass Teyla, but she felt this needed to be said. "I know that you enjoy being a part of this team, being on Atlantis and working with us. But we are not just colleagues; we are your friends. Affection is not traded, it's given. And you have ours."

Clearly floored, Teyla moved her head to gaze out the pane of glass beside her. She was quiet a moment, then turned back to Elizabeth. "Thank you, Elizabeth," she said, her eyes soft. Elizabeth was relieved to see that Teyla seemed to have taken what she'd said as it was intended—as the concern of a friend.

Elizabeth sat up straighter. "I have one other thing to discuss with you," she said, taking a deep breath. "Any person who is a victim of assault by a member of the U.S. Air Force is required to submit a statement." She tried to look Teyla in the eye, but Elizabeth's gaze slid away.

"What kind of statement?" asked Teyla, confused.

Elizabeth sighed. "It's a formality. You have to give a verbal statement that describes the assault." She hesitated, then added, "It's just an outline of what happened, Teyla. You don't have to give the gory details." Elizabeth cringed at her own choice of words but continued. "The statement will then be filed and reviewed by your commanding officers."

"Very well," Teyla said calmly.

"I'm sorry you have to ask this, Teyla. I know it must be difficult to talk about."

Teyla shrugged her shoulders slightly. "It does not bother me to discuss what happened."

Elizabeth narrowed her eyes in skepticism but didn't challenge her. "I thought you might be most comfortable giving the statement to Dr. Heightmeyer."

Teyla nodded. "I will go see her now."

Lifting and tapping the files on the desk, Elizabeth smiled across at Teyla. "Thanks for your time, Teyla." She was surprised by Teyla's composure—in fact, Teyla's attitude through this entire debacle had been unruffled and serene. Elizabeth wasn't sure she would cope as well under the same circumstances.

Later that afternoon, Elizabeth made her way to Dr. Heightmeyer's office. The city was quiet and she soaked it in, enjoying the rare moment of calm. Radek's laugh echoed from one of the labs as she passed, and Elizabeth smiled at the sound. She wished more days in the city were like today—when her scientists had time to explore the treasure that was Atlantis.

When Elizabeth had signed up for the expedition, she had imagined that she'd spend years researching the Ancients and discovering the roots of human history, but encountering the Wraith had changed all that. She tried not to resent the resources and energy expended on protecting the people of Pegasus, but there were times when she wished she could just confine the expedition to the city so they could use all their time to discover her secrets.

"Dr. Weir." Kate greeted her as Elizabeth approached her open door.

"Hello, Dr. Heightmeyer. May I come in?" She had always liked Kate Heightmeyer. She was calm, methodical, compassionate—the perfect therapist. Elizabeth had even considered coming to discuss some personal things with her, but had decided against it. There were some things a leader could not indulge in.

"I understand Teyla came to see you earlier. How did the statement go?"

Dr. Heightmeyer looked up from her desk at Elizabeth. "It went well. I'll have the statement to you and Colonel Sheppard by the end of the day."

Elizabeth sat down, gazing directly at her. "Is she okay, Kate?"

Heightmeyer smiled and nodded. "Yes, she's just fine."

"I guess I find that surprising. Teyla went through a very traumatic experience," Elizabeth said slowly, shaking her head uncomprehendingly.

Heightmeyer sat back in her chair, giving Elizabeth her full attention. "Dr. Weir, since we've come to the Pegasus galaxy, we've all experienced traumas. And it's taken a toll on us. But we have to remember that Teyla has seen violence and destruction from a very young age. She's grown calloused, and I don't mean that in a negative way." Kate paused and gazed out the window toward the large flock of sea birds that circled the far pier, fearlessly dipping and swooping over the water.

"The people of this galaxy have found a way to live with sorrow and destruction every day but still find joy and satisfaction in life. Teyla will be fine." Heightmeyer turned back to Elizabeth and smiled reassuringly. "She's a very strong woman, Elizabeth."

Elizabeth's shoulders relaxed in relief. "She certainly is."

.

0

.

"You sure you're up to this, Sheppard?"

"Up to what?"

"Last time we ran together you wimped out and you haven't run with me since." Ronon's face was solemn. He loved teasing Sheppard. The first time they'd run together after the bug incident, Sheppard had been disgusted that he'd lost his edge over Ronon and hadn't run with him since.

Sheppard just glared at him as he stretched his quads. "I'll be fine," he grunted.

Ronon sighed and shook his head. "If you say so."

He started off at a good clip and Sheppard fell in beside him. Ronon would never let on, but Sheppard actually had a lot of stamina and was probably the most in shape of all the Air Force guys.

The running track was laid out along the edge of the west pier and had probably been a bustling sidewalk thousands of years ago. Now the Lanteans used the six-mile stretch for exercising. It was better than the metal catwalks inside the city, but Ronon would have preferred to run in the woods, flying over a dirt trail, trees whizzing past, jumping over roots and crossing streams. But at least they were out in the fresh air and he could feel the salty breeze against his skin.

The miles were marked off with red tape and they passed the first one easily. From the scowl on his face and the clenched fists as he ran, it was obvious that Sheppard was in a really bad mood, and Ronon watched him out of the corner of his eye. Teyla had mentioned to Ronon the statement she had to give Heightmeyer, and he figured Sheppard had gotten it on his desk this morning. Ronon knew Sheppard was angry over this Caldwell thing and he sympathized with him, but Sheppard was torturing himself for no reason.

"How's the shoulder?"

"It's fine," Sheppard replied dismissively, still breathing easily.

"Why didn't you tell anybody about it?" Ronon asked, looking straight ahead.

Sheppard snorted. "Yeah, like I was going to stand next to Teyla passed out on a gurney and whine about a sprained shoulder."

Ronon had to admit he would have done the same. But this was as good a way as any to get Sheppard talking about it.

"It's not your fault, you know. What happened to Teyla," Ronon said, squinting in the sunlight as he looked out over the ocean. The waves looked so small from up here on the pier, but he knew those waves were high enough to crush any swimmer.

"Right," said Sheppard sarcastically.

Another half mile passed before Ronon spoke again.

"There's no way you could have known, Sheppard."

Sheppard laughed bitterly. "That's the thing. I did know. I knew Caldwell was acting weird and I didn't say anything." He shook his head in disgust.

Ronon felt his own irritation rising. What was it about Sheppard that made him take on the blame for anything within reach? "You figured it out long before anyone else would have. You got there in time," Ronon reminded him.

"She should have never even been in that situation in the first place. It shouldn't have even come to that. If I'd listened to my gut I could have prevented the whole damn thing." Sheppard swiped a forearm across his brow, shaking the sweat off onto the ground. "I over thought it. I should have gone with my instincts." His voice was bitter.

Ronon wanted to shake him. "Even if it was a mistake—and I'm not saying it was—it's not a big deal. Everybody makes mistakes. You don't have to do everything."

Sheppard grimaced. "I can't afford to make mistakes. When I make a mistake, people die."

They passed the third mile marker and the track made a turn back toward the city. Ronon sighed and looked down at the blur of his feet as they passed over the grey track. He was really going to have to spell it out for the guy. "Sheppard, people die. It's war. We're soldiers. Sometimes somebody gets hurt, or you lose a man."

He waited for another quarter mile before he added, "Besides, if somebody on Lorne's team gets injured or killed, do you blame Lorne? Tell him he failed?"

Sheppard looked peeved. "No, I don't. But he doesn't wake up a whole galaxy of Wraith that kill thousands of people. And that was just me getting started." Sheppard was really getting worked up over the conversation and started to run a little faster, breathing heavily.

"And it was my fault," he continued. "I went in there, guns blazing, made a big mess. I didn't stop and think, just rushed in there like Indiana Jones, made things worse. I should have just gotten our people out of there quicker and left quietly." He glared over at Ronon. "Before I went, I should have taken the time to think it through."

Ronon nodded and was silent. They had made it almost another mile when he looked over at Sheppard. "So which is it?"

"Which is what?"

"Which is it... you should listen to your instincts or think things through?" Ronon said.

Sheppard opened his mouth, but nothing came out and he snapped it shut. Ronon suppressed a smile at having backed him into a corner.

A cooling breeze picked up and there was silence until they were well past the line of tape that indicated four miles, when Ronon spoke again.

"Are you going to tell her?"

Sheppard frowned. "Tell who what?"

Ronon saw the look on Sheppard's face and it told him that Sheppard knew exactly what he was talking about. Ronon just rolled his eyes and waited.

"No." Sheppard had waited another mile and half before he answered Ronon's question, and Ronon had thought he wasn't going to answer at all. Sheppard looked straight ahead and said nothing else.

Ronon had known for a while that Sheppard was hung up over Teyla, probably long before Sheppard knew it himself. That first night she'd been injured, Ronon had walked into the infirmary to find Sheppard sitting next to her bed, head in his hands, and Ronon had slipped out without making a sound. He guessed that Sheppard had finally figured it out.

Ronon sighed. "Why not?"

Sheppard looked over at Ronon, irritated. "I really have to explain this? You're military. You know why. Having, you know... feelings for somebody in the field compromises your judgment."

"I don't think so," Ronon retorted, glancing over at Sheppard.

Sheppard gave him a dirty look for not backing him up on this. "It makes you take risks, do things you wouldn't normally do because that person is too important to you."

Ronon waited another mile, letting Sheppard stew over it, then finally said, "Correct me if I'm wrong, but I can't think of anything you've done for Teyla in the field that you wouldn't have done for me or McKay." He reached up to fling a drop of sweat from his temple. "You take stupid risks for your team all the time."

"It's not that simple," panted Sheppard, looking really pissed now.

"I think it is." Ronon responded. They slowed to walk the last twenty feet to the entrance of the transporter at the end of the track. "I think you make things more complicated than they are."

He looked over to see the black look on Sheppard's face, and turned away to hide his grin. He'd really gotten to the guy.

.

0

.

General Landry hung up the phone, trying not to slam it into the receiver. "Walter!" he yelled.

Walter's head appeared around the corner of the doorjamb. "Sir?"

"Get Dr. Lee up here pronto."

"Yes, sir."

Landry reflected that although Walter could be a bit of a chatterbox, he was great at following orders mindlessly. It was one of the reasons they'd kept Walter around so long.

Landry waited impatiently, going over mission reports, but his thoughts were mostly on the disturbing phone call he'd just received.

Finally Dr. Lee appeared and ambled in. "Good morning, General Landry," he said, genial as ever.

The thing about Lee that irritated Landry was his affability. Bill was never in a hurry, never ruffled. Landry didn't know if it was because Lee had great composure in the face of danger, or if the scientist was so scatterbrained that he never truly grasped the urgency of a situation.

"Bill, I just got a call from Agent Barrett. His sources in the Trust have discovered that there is not one, but two Goa'uld operating in Atlantis."

Lee sighed and slowly shook his head. "Those poor people. If it's not one thing, it's another."

Biting his tongue and counting to ten, Landry closed his eyes and sighed. "Bill, I didn't bring you in here to commiserate. I need you to find a way to get a message to Atlantis. Their scheduled dial-in isn't until tomorrow and they need to be warned about this operative."

Lee's sat up a little straighter in his chair and his expression became mildly alarmed. "General, that's impossible. Our only method of sending messages other than the Stargate is via the Daedalus, and they're just two days away from Earth. They're much too far from the Pegasus galaxy to relay a message to Atlantis."

"Dr. Lee, this is what I pay you for. I want you to figure out a way to contact Atlantis. Use whatever resources you need." Landry fixed his gaze on Lee and gave the doctor his best glare.

Shaking his head again, Lee sat up even straighter and finally looked appropriately panicked. "You don't understand. When I say impossible, I mean it. The gulf between our galaxies is far too vast for any transmission to span it. There's just no way."

Landry had gotten pretty good at reading scientists. A shift in their eyes, an adjustment in their body language could tell him if _impossible_ meant _maybe_ or if _impossible_ meant _no way_. Lee's eyes stared back into his and Landry grudgingly realized that the scientist was probably telling the truth.

"You have two hours, Dr. Lee. Get down to the lab and get busy working out a solution." Landry figured it was always better to be safe than sorry, in case he'd misread the scientist. But he didn't think that was the case this time.

Lee shook his head and shuffled out of the office murmuring. Leaning back in his quilted leather chair, Landry heaved a sigh of irritation. He was getting tired of this inability to contact Atlantis on his own. Because the SGC didn't have a ZPM, the only way to talk with them was to wait for Atlantis to dial them, and it was getting on his nerves.

He knew Caldwell was secure in Atlantis' holding cell, but he'd been there for three weeks now, and the second Goa'uld could be biding its time until it could help Caldwell escape. There was no telling what kind of havoc they could both wreak before they were apprehended.

"Walter!" he yelled again.

"Sir."

"Where are we on that Tok'ra thing? Why aren't they here yet to remove the symbiotes when Atlantis sends them?" He glowered at Walter.

"Sir, the Tok'ra still haven't arrived. We're waiting for word from them," Walter replied.

"Well, get somebody to light a fire under their asses. I want them ready when the Goa'uld get here," growled Landry.

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

**Title:** Deliverance, Chapter 5 of 9  
><strong>Rating:<strong> M  
><strong>Warnings:<strong> None  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> I don't own Stargate or its characters.

**Comments:** This story is loosely based on the episode "Critical Mass." Emphasis on "loosely." It's set somewhat before the canon episode. Some lines are taken directly from the episode and belong to the writers and producers. "Critical Mass" was written by Brad Wright & Carl Binder.

**Chapter 5**

The soft breeze washed over Teyla's bare arms and she sighed in contentment. The windows in Atlantis were rarely open as the city's systems kept the temperature and humidity at a controlled, steady level, but Teyla often missed the feel of an evening breeze before falling asleep, and so she occasionally opened a window in the evening to indulge in the feel of night air on her skin.

No longer hungry, she pushed around the potatoes on her plate. It was late evening; Halling had left a little earlier, and she was now alone in the mess hall. Major Lorne had been kind enough to bring her friend back to the city for a visit after a supply run to the mainland, and she and Halling had sat together and drunk the tea that Charin had prepared for Teyla when she was last on the mainland. But a few hours with a friend did not replace a day's visit with her people. Teyla missed Charin, but she had not been allowed to go to the mainland during her convalescence and it grated on her.

Carson had insisted that she stay in the city. "Your ribs are still knitting together and if you bump or strain them, you'll have to start the healing process all over again and I know you don't want that, my dear."

"Carson," Teyla had said slowly, trying to keep her temper, "I will be extremely careful. There is nothing dangerous on the mainland." He had merely shaken his head at her and she could see he would not yield on this. Teyla suspected that he did not trust her to stay inactive without a city full of friends watching her closely to make sure she did not exert herself.

So she had been cooped up in the city for three weeks. At her insistence, Carson had set a date at which she would be allowed to return to light duty. It was just two days from now, and she could almost taste the freedom waiting for her.

Teyla gazed out the window again, inhaling the cool breeze as it lifted strands of hair around her face and stirred the panels of her skirt. The small Lantean moon was visible tonight, and the light it reflected was a silvery color, different than the golden sheen of Athos' moon. She had turned off the lights of the mess hall, and a blue glow that was almost ethereal filled the room.

All these weeks with little to do had given Teyla much time to think. Dr. Weir's words after her injury had cut straight to her heart, and Teyla realized that on a subconscious level, she did feel that she must trade work for friendship. She had grown up as a trader, spent her adult life negotiating for her people, and her mindset was formed accordingly. It was difficult to allow the people of Atlantis to care for her without offering some sort of remuneration.

But she knew Elizabeth was right. If the situation were reversed, if a member of her team were forced to stay with the Athosians to be cared for, Teyla would never expect them to repay kindness with some kind of favor. She had begun to wonder if releasing control could be a type of strength—surely trusting someone enough to let them see you as you are was a kind of bravery. So Teyla had tried to be content during the weeks of her convalescence, tried to allow her new-found vulnerability to soften her. She had even stopped wearing her radio sometimes and had not once tried to help any of the scientists.

She heard footsteps behind her and knew without looking that it was John—he walked with an easy but firm lope that she would recognize anywhere. She turned to see him lowering himself in the chair opposite her.

"Mashed potatoes by moonlight?" He smiled over at her.

She returned the smiled and nodded. "Are you here for mashed potatoes as well?"

Shaking his head, John glanced out the window at the low-hanging moon. "No, I just finished filing reports and saw you on my way by." He turned back to her. "I came in to see how you were doing." He leaned back in his chair and gazed at her appraisingly.

Teyla pushed the tray away from her and leaned forward to rest her arms on the table. "I am well. Dr. Beckett says that I am almost fully healed and should be able to return to duty in two days."

John looked over at her and said with some concern, "You know you don't have to return to duty on that exact day. There's no rush."

Teyla sighed and shook her head. "I do not think I can bear one more day of inactivity. I shall go mad if I do not resume my duties."

He smiled over at her and grinned sympathetically. "I know how you feel. Two weeks in the infirmary and I was climbing the walls." An expression of regret flitted across his face as it always did when he referred to his transformation into the Iratus bug, but he cleared his throat and quickly changed the subject.

"Your injuries are better?"

Teyla lifted her arm to expose it to the silver light. The bandage had been removed and the row of cuts had healed nicely, closing together to form thin lines of dark red. She saw him swallow at the sight and she lowered her arm quickly. "They are much better and do not hurt anymore," she assured him.

He looked up at her and the searing pain and regret in his eyes was a cold jolt to Teyla's senses. "I'm so sorry I didn't get there sooner," he said, voice low, and Teyla was shocked by the emotion in his eyes. Since that night in the infirmary, John had never spoken to Teyla about what had happened with Caldwell, other than to ask about her health. She knew John well enough to surmise that he felt guilty about not arriving sooner and was surprised that he spoke of it now.

She looked at him levelly, channeling strength and assurance into her gaze. "You arrived much sooner than I had any reason to hope, John," she said softly. She wanted to relieve him of the guilt that she knew he carried, but was not sure she could reach him. Teyla saw his focus shifting away already, turning away from the emotion he'd just expressed.

His eyes dropped to the cloth bag resting on the floor beside her. "Mashed potatoes for later?"

She laughed. "No, Halling brought it. It is a get-well present of sorts from my people."

"Want me to carry it to your quarters for you?"

"That would be lovely, yes." Teyla acquiesced not because she thought she could not carry it, but because she knew John would not take no for an answer.

She stood and John hefted the bag, waiting while she cleaned her tray and set it in its bin. She decided to leave the window open—it would be a shame to cut off that delightful breeze even if no one were here to enjoy it. John followed her from the mess hall and walked beside her down the dimly-lit deserted corridors of the city.

"Are you sure you do not mind walking all the way to my quarters?" Teyla asked. It would be a long walk because she had chosen a room at the outer edge of the area of the city that had been designated as living quarters. It was not that she wanted to be isolated, but sometimes when she was in the middle of the city surrounded by hundreds of people, she felt a little trapped by the press of people and the vaulted walls.

"No, I don't mind," he smiled.

Teyla stared ahead, not looking at him. His smile pushed at the newly exposed skin of her vulnerability and it was unsettling. Of all people, John frightened her most when she thought of lowering her guard. From her first day in the city, she had set up a mental wall between them. Of course they were friends and could even be called close, but there was a barrier that she never let him pass.

She feared the fascination he held for her. He was different than Rodney, different than Ronon, and the slight buzz of exhilaration she felt when John looked into her eyes was too frightening to entertain. She had kept him at arms length and it had worked until that day in the gym when she had watched the control he always held so tightly begin to slip, and he had kissed her in a rush of passion.

Teyla could still taste the warmth and aggression of that kiss, and it terrified her. Not because she did not want it. It terrified her because she _did_ want it. That day she had clutched at her own control, resisting John and pulling away emotionally. What had made her almost lose her stranglehold on discipline was not the kiss; it was what he had said afterward—"Are you okay?"

The softness of his voice, the tenderness in his eyes, had almost been her undoing. She dared not even answer his question, so she had pushed him away with her words and when he left she nearly collapsed with relief—no, not relief. It was release, release from nearly losing her grip and responding to his touch.

Until that day she had never presumed to imagine he had any interest in her. He was as tightly controlled as she and he had never given any indication that he thought of her as anything but a friend. But he had said it. "That was interesting."

_That was interesting._

The words were worn down to the bone, smooth from constant examination. Teyla had replayed them so many times in her mind that they had almost lost meaning. And when she was done examining them, she always turned away from them. They were dangerous.

Until Charin had not-so-subtly told her that she was too alone. That she needed a companion. And Teyla's thoughts had run to John, and only John.

They had reached her quarters, silent the entire time. Teyla waved her hand over the sensor and led him into the room, not bothering to turn on the lights as the moon was so bright. The light in her quarters was even more intensely blue than in the mess hall, as rays filtered through the colored glass window, silvering every surface with blue enamel.

John crossed the open space and set the bag down in a corner. "Wow, that's heavy. What's in there, a load of bricks?"

"It contains candles. Incense. Pottery. Blankets. Gifts from friends on the mainland," she explained.

"So, Athosian-y stuff," he remarked, looking over at her teasingly.

She smiled. "Yes, Athosian-y stuff."

He smiled back, and they were silent for a moment. "See you tomorrow," he said abruptly, turning to go.

Heart in her throat, Teyla reached for him, grasping his wrist to stop him. "John," she whispered.

He turned back, surprise in his eyes, but he quickly schooled his expression.

"I never took the opportunity to formally thank you for coming to rescue me when Colonel Caldwell kidnapped me," she said a bit breathlessly. Teyla knew that John already knew she was grateful, but she did not know what else to say.

John lifted his eyebrows and his smile was a little forced. "I don't really stand on formality, so there's no need," he said dismissively, but did not pull away from her fingers on his wrist.

Teyla said nothing, but stepped close to him, closer than she ever had, and forced herself to look directly into his eyes.

The blue light illuminated one side of John's face, casting his features in sharp relief, and darkened his hair to a blue-black. "You're welcome," he said finally, and for a moment his eyes softened and she saw him as he was, full of doubts and hopes and apprehensions, but his expression closed quickly.

She felt herself closing down as well and then remembered Charin's words. Teyla took that last step forward and slipped her arms under John's, pulling herself close to him in a careful embrace. She felt him hesitate, then pat her awkwardly on the back.

"You came just when I needed you most, John," she murmured into his chest. She could smell the detergent of his t-shirt and the faint scent of something else, perhaps the soap he showered with.

His shoulders relaxed somewhat and he rested both hands on her back. "I'm just glad I was there," he said slowly, and she could feel the vibration of his voice in his chest.

She did not release him, just closed her eyes tightly against the blue light all around them.

He patted her on the back again, rubbing his hand in circles to comfort her. She felt a slight tremor in his arm as his hand slid down her spine, stopping low on the small of her back, and the warmth of his fingers spread against her through her shirt.

Suddenly he stiffened with an exclamation of dismay, yanking his hands from her and stepping back. She looked up to see his face flooded with embarrassment.

"Teyla, I—I'm sorry. I'm sure the last thing you want right now is another guy's hands all over you." He backed further away from her, fists clenched at his sides, strain and shame written in the lines of his body. "I'm going to leave now."

"John," she protested. "You are not just 'another guy.'" She took a breath, centering herself, and looked over at him. "Did it ever occur to you that I might find your touch comforting?"

He seemed speechless for a moment, wavering on the edge of some kind of resolve, then shook his head, like he'd given up on something. "Teyla, I don't want to comfort you as just a friend." She saw the agony of confession on his face and her muscles loosened in relief.

Teyla took a step toward him across the patterns of light on the floor, reaching for him with both hands. "Then comfort me as more than a friend," she whispered.

John seemed frozen as one moment of silence piled upon the next. The tension in his shoulders, the clench of his jaw—it was all familiar to Teyla. She recognized the struggle for control and waited.

Teyla realized he had not been breathing when he let out a gust of air and stepped to her, pulling her into his arms. The pounding of his heart was loud as her cheek pressed to his chest, and for a moment she just followed the rhythm, counting the beats, eyes closed.

He held his arms gingerly around her as if she were a bird that might fly away, and she finally looked up at him, a question in her eyes at his hesitation.

"I don't want to hurt you," he said worriedly, looking down at her.

"John, you will not hurt me. My injuries are mostly healed. You need not worry."

He nodded, seeming unconvinced, so she leaned in closer to him, pressing into the solidness of him, the strength that had always pulled at her with a siren call. She felt his big hand spread on her back, pushing her body into his, drawing her close and finally holding her tightly to him.

"Teyla," he whispered into her hair, and she heard the relief and need in his voice. Raising her face to his, she offered her lips and he did not hesitate, just bent down and kissed her hungrily, pressing his mouth warmly against hers. Reaching up with her uninjured arm, Teyla placed her hand on the back of his neck and pulled him even closer to her.

The kiss was release. It was surrender. It was strength. The rightness of it nearly took Teyla's breath away, and she wondered that they had waited so long for something so inevitable. She knew John felt it too, knew it from his sigh of relief and the gentleness of his mouth on hers.

On and on they kissed, and Teyla did not know how much time passed... she was too lost in the sensation of his tongue sliding against hers, of the warmth of his hand spread against her back. She gripped the tense muscles of his upper arms and let the lightheadedness of arousal consume her. There was the buzz of heightened pleasure that always came with the touch of a new lover, but underneath it was a familiarity of friendship that was unlike anything Teyla had experienced.

John's hand slid from her spine, lower to her backside, the touch soft and exploratory. Teyla felt the uncertainty in his kiss now and she pulled from his mouth to slide her lips across his jaw to his ear, breathing a sigh of satisfaction to let him know that she wanted him to touch her this way. He became a more confident and set his other hand on one globe of her backside, pushing her up and into his body, and she felt the heated pressure of his manhood against her belly.

He seemed so hesitant, so concerned, and she pushed her breasts hard into his chest, wanting to assure him that she needed this so much. When she pulled his earlobe into her mouth and sucked, he relaxed slightly, running his hands around and up her hips to her stomach, nearly spanning her waist with his big hands, and she smiled against his ear.

John pulled from her slightly and crossed to the bed, taking her hand as he sat down. Drawing her down to settle on his lap, he arranged her legs to drape sideways over his, her bruised ribs closest to his chest. Her back was now to the window and she turned her head toward him so she did not cast a shadow across his face—she wanted to see his expression, follow his movements, assure him that this was right.

She lifted her arm to curl it around his neck, but a twinge in her ribs stopped her, so she instead slipped her arm around his waist. In the blue light, she saw him close his eyes as he sighed and wrapped his arm around her waist in turn, pressing his face into her neck. His other hand touched against her ankle, barely a brush of sensation, and Teyla rested her cheek against his hair, reveling in the feel of his body pressed against hers.

John's hand grazed up her calf, so lightly, his fingertips like the brush of butterflies against her skin. He reached her knee and paused, turning his mouth against hers, seeking out her tongue again, wanting to be reassured. Teyla kissed him solidly, firmly, but his hand remained at her knee, brushing against her skin but moving no farther.

"John." She pulled away from him to gaze into his eyes. "My injuries have not made me fragile. You will not break me. If I feel any pain, I assure you that I will let you know."

Teyla traced her finger up his cheek and pulled the radio from his ear. Reaching down to his inner thigh and releasing the catches of his holster, she pulled his sidearm carefully from him and lowered it gently to the floor. Lifting her free hand, she ran a finger along his jaw again and watched him search her face, looking back and forth at her eyes. Her pulse began to thrum when she saw his expression shift to one of determined passion, his mouth grow firm, and felt his hand grip tightly against her waist.

She sighed and her eyes closed in pleasure when she felt the palm of his hand finally slide smoothly up her thigh under her skirt, and she shifted on his lap to allow him room to press his fingers against her center. It seemed all her blood rushed to meet his hand as he caressed her through her underwear, and she opened her eyes to see his face grow tense with excitement when he felt that her panties were already damp.

One strong finger slipped under the edge of her underwear and he stroked down the middle of her wet folds. She gasped and pressed her open mouth against his muscled neck as he ran his finger up and down her, spiraling her pleasure higher.

Without lifting her face from his neck, Teyla shifted her weight on one hip and reached under her skirt to pull one side of her underwear down her leg. John withdrew his finger from her and moved to help her by pulling at the other side, and together they tugged her panties from under her skirt and she dropped them to the floor.

John's breath quickened and she could feel his hot exhalation on her bare shoulder as he ran his hand up her thigh again, firmly, and pushed one finger past her entrance and inside her. His foray into her most private flesh was intoxicating, and Teyla moved against him, lost in the pleasure of his hand so intimately inside her.

Her breath caught in her throat and she made the first sound of pleasure into the silence when he slipped a second finger in to join the first. She lifted from his neck to look at him and the set of his mouth and flare of his nostrils told her he was extremely aroused.

So she placed her forehead against his and allowed him to watch her face as he worked her toward the peak of pleasure. She wanted to close her eyes, look away, to not let him see the moment of vulnerability that release would bring, but instead she gazed into his eyes, allowing him to watch her response to his touch.

When he lifted his thumb to brush against her throbbing bud, she caught her lip between her teeth and nearly turned her face away, but she forced herself to stay, forehead against his in a gesture that reminded her of the first time she had greeted him in the traditional Athosian manner.

Teyla began to pant and slid her hand up John's back to clench in his hair, oblivious to any pain in her ribs. Her other hand gripped his forearm, guiding and encouraging him as he pleasured her.

The sapphire light around them, the intimacy of holding each other's gaze, the warmth of his other arm that rested against the bare skin of her back where her shirt had ridden up—it was all too much. John's lips had parted and he was breathing heavily, his eyes never leaving hers, and Teyla felt herself spasm around his fingers, and a wave of sweetness swept over her as she climaxed against his hand.

Through it all Teyla never looked away, and she let John see the power of the sensation tensing her face and causing her to bite her lip hard as she whimpered in the back of her throat. She was surprised to see a rush of emotion in his eyes and the tenderness in his brow as he held her close, caressing her wet folds soothingly as the wave receded and she began to relax against him.

"Teyla," he whispered, and his face was full of awe and arousal and she smiled at him, still breathing hard and trembling. She lowered her hand from where it had gripped his hair and brought it between them, reaching down to feel him, rubbing the hardened tip of his erection through his pants, and he groaned, eyes bright with excitement.

Teyla gently pulled John's hand from between her legs and pushed him down onto the mattress behind them, and he shifted to lie lengthwise on the bed, placing his hands on her waist to pull her over him. Making sure he saw the intent in her eyes, she leaned down and pressed the full length of her body against him, grinding against his heated arousal through his clothes. John gasped and reached to tangle his hand in her hair and brought her mouth down fiercely to his.

He pulled her lower lip into his mouth and thrust up against her pelvis, desperate for any kind of friction through their clothing, so she moved to unbutton his jacket.

Suddenly he tensed, and she felt his hand loosen in her hair. "Did you hear that?" he whispered, glancing toward the door.

She shook her head. "Hear what?"

"_Sheppard."_ It was a low voice just outside the entrance to her quarters.

"That," he muttered, sitting up slowly to allow her to slide onto the mattress beside him.

"_Sheppard." _The voice was slightly louder.

Teyla's eyebrows rose. "I believe it is Ronon."

John shook his head, irritated, and Teyla could tell he had no intention of answering.

"_Sheppard. Caldwell's escaped."_

Teyla felt John's body stiffen beside her, and the tension of arousal was immediately replaced by the tension of combat that she knew so well.

"How?" John asked loudly, his voice carrying to the door.

"_Just get out here."_ Ronon sounded impatient.

John was frozen for a moment, then stood. He looked down at Teyla, his face creased with anxiety. "God, Teyla, I am so sorry. This is the worst possible moment for—"

"Go," she interrupted him. "You must go."

He looked unconvinced and she stood, reaching down for his sidearm and handing it to him. "I of all people understand. Do not worry."

His expression eased somewhat and then his face grew serious. "Teyla, I want you to stay right here. Lock the door and don't let anyone in—not anyone!—until you hear from me." His voice was low and intense and he gripped her arm tightly. "Promise me."

Teyla nodded. "I promise I will stay."

"Okay," he said, and moved to go, but turned to face her as he went, walking backward across the floor toward the door. "We'll continue this later. I promise," he assured her, concern on his face.

"I know," Teyla nodded. "I know. Go."

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

**Title:** Deliverance, Chapter 6 of 9  
><strong>Rating:<strong> M  
><strong>Warnings:<strong> None  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> I don't own Stargate or its characters.

**Comments:** This story is loosely based on the episode "Critical Mass." Emphasis on "loosely." It's set somewhat before the canon episode. Some lines are taken directly from the episode and belong to the writers and producers. "Critical Mass" was written by Brad Wright & Carl Binder.

**Chapter 6**

Out of politeness, Ronon kept his back turned until he heard the doors to Teyla's quarters slide shut behind Sheppard.

"What happened?" Sheppard demanded, blinking in the bright lights of the corridor and re-buckling his sidearm to his leg, then reaching for the tac vest and stunner that Ronon handed him. Ronon saw the flush on Sheppard's cheeks, the collar turned up at the back of his neck, and the fading red of nail marks on his right forearm, but said nothing.

"Caldwell got out of the holding cell about fifteen minutes ago," Ronon said tersely, falling in beside Sheppard as he headed down the corridors to the control room.

"How the hell did that happen?" Sheppard growled, as he pulled the vest on.

"Dunno. Cole was on watch, and he said that the force field just disappeared and the door opened. Said Caldwell ran out and took him and the other guys down. Cole guessed he'd been out for about five minutes. That was ten minutes ago."

"Shit."

Ronon raised his eyebrows. Sheppard usually stuck with "crap." He must be really pissed. But Ronon figured he'd probably feel the same way if the guy who beat up his woman had escaped.

They jogged at a pretty good clip—Teyla's room was at the far end of the living area and it took them five minutes to get to the gate room. They took the back stairs three at a time up to the control room and arrived to find Weir, McKay, and Zelenka already gathered.

"Where've you been?" McKay sounded peeved. "Why weren't you answering your radio?"

Sheppard just ignored McKay and waited a moment until Lorne had bounded up the main stairs across from them and entered the control room. "What's the situation, Major?" Sheppard inquired, fitting the radio over his ear that Chuck had handed him.

"Sergeant Cole radioed in about fifteen minutes ago. That means Caldwell's been out in the city for twenty minutes. I've already sent two security teams to do a sweep of the control tower," Lorne said, composed as usual.

"Rodney, have you got that alien life signs detector ready yet?" demanded Sheppard.

McKay looked to the side and hesitated for a moment. "Um, no, not yet," he admitted, wincing in anticipation.

"What!" Sheppard exploded. "You've had three weeks to work on it!" he yelled.

McKay was defensive. "Caldwell was in the cell and wasn't going anywhere. We didn't think it was necessary to calibrate it anymore."

"Well, it's necessary now," Sheppard growled. "How close are you?"

"Really close. As in a few minutes. But we've got a bigger problem now," said McKay, looking up anxiously from the keyboard in front of him.

"What is it, Rodney?" asked Weir, arms crossed and forehead creased with worry.

"In order for Caldwell to have escaped from the holding cell, he had to have had an accomplice." McKay's voice was low and intense, and for a moment, there was only stunned silence in the control room.

"Someone had to hack into the city's operating system, lower the force field, and open the door for Caldwell. It's impossible otherwise." Zelenka agreed, looking over his glasses at Weir, and Ronon felt the tension in the room ratchet up a few notches.

"Are we sure about that, Rodney?" asked Weir. "Is it possible that Caldwell just figured out a way to lower the shield from the inside?"

"I'm positive." McKay's face was red and his jaw was thrust out. "There's no other way."

Weir looked to Zelenka, who nodded somberly.

"Shit," Sheppard muttered under his breath.

Zelenka took a deep breath. "The question is whether or not the accomplice is an operative of the Trust or if they actually carry a Goa'uld. Until we get the sensors calibrated, there's no way to know."

Weir frowned. "I have a hard time imagining a member of the expedition willingly helping the Trust."

"Why don't we just get on the city wide and ask everyone to stay in their quarters? Then the only moving dots on the normal life signs detector would be Caldwell and the other Goa'uld," Lorne asked.

McKay rolled his eyes so hard the irises nearly disappeared. "Because Caldwell isn't an idiot. He'd hear the announcement for everyone to go to their rooms, and he'd just find a room and sit tight. He's not going to wander around the city, hoping we'll see his life sign."

Elizabeth sighed. "Rodney's right. We don't want to give Caldwell any information on how we're going to go about tracking him."

Ronon watched Sheppard stare at the ground for a moment, hands on his hips, obviously considering his options. Sheppard drew a deep breath and looked up. "Okay. Lorne, I want you to break your guys into teams of three. Finish the sweep of the control tower, then work your way out into the city."

Sheppard leaned over the console, his voice harsher than usual. "McKay, I want that sensor calibrated immediately. As in now."

"Okay, people, get moving." Sheppard nodded at Ronon and headed toward the stairs. "Ronon, you're with me." Sheppard turned back to face the room. "Remember, this isn't actually Caldwell we're dealing with, so we want to stun him or bring him down with non-lethal force. It'll probably take a couple of shots with a stunner."

"John," Weir called as Ronon and Sheppard reached the top of the stairs. "How will you know who to look for other than Caldwell? There's another Goa'uld out there."

"That's why it's so important that McKay get the sensors up by the time we get going," Sheppard ground out. He gave McKay a threatening glare, and for once McKay just nodded submissively.

Weir looked like she was about to say something, but thought better of it. Ronon thought Weir had a tendency to stick her nose in situations that were clearly military, but she didn't say anything this time.

Ronon followed Sheppard out of the gate room. "Armory first?"

"Yeah." Sheppard was terse. "That's where I'd go if I were him."

Ronon took point and Sheppard dropped in behind him. As he pulled the pistol from his belt and set it to stun, Ronon felt the thrill of the hunt settle over him like a cloud of exhilaration. It wasn't that he liked Caldwell being loose in the city. But it was impossible to not find some kind of satisfaction in the immediate hair-trigger focus and rush of anticipation that came with stalking an enemy.

Ronon and Sheppard slid carefully into the armory, weapons drawn, clearing the semi-dark room quickly. After months of working together, they didn't even have to look at each other for cues anymore. They knew how the other moved and they operated in an easy flow.

"I don't think he's been here," said John in a low voice, peering out the door on the far side of the room.

Ronon found that worrisome. Caldwell had plenty of time to get here first, and they had come to the armory more to see what weapons Caldwell had taken than to hope they'd find him still here.

If Caldwell hadn't come to get ordinance, that meant he was already armed, and with who knows what. Ronon frowned and knew by Sheppard's silence that he was thinking the same thing.

Sheppard touched his radio. "Lorne, you got anything yet?"

"No, sir. But the control tower is cleared." Major Lorne sounded completely calm and collected. Ronon didn't know the guy very well, but he knew Sheppard trusted Lorne completely in the field, and that was enough for Ronon.

"Keep the teams moving out," Sheppard replied, then looked at Ronon, the question clear in his eyes: where was Caldwell going?

Ronon shook his head in response. "Depends on what he's hoping to accomplish. He could be anywhere."

Sheppard nodded, looking frustrated. "Let's check on the ZPM."

The city was quiet—it was late and most people were in their quarters, but there were still some people moving in the dimly-lit corridors. They got a few surprised looks, but Sheppard and Ronon just ignored them and kept moving. Ronon narrowed his eyes at the idea that one of these passing people might be the other Goa'uld. But there was no way to know, and he just had to move on.

They were halfway to the generators when McKay's voice jumped over the radio.

"Sheppard, we've got it. The alien life sign detector been configured." McKay sounded triumphant.

"All right, what have you got?" John demanded, impatient.

"We've got two signals," responded Rodney. "There's definitely a second Goa'uld."

"Where are they?"

"One is in the living quarters section of the city. The other is in the power room near the ZPM."

Ronon wasn't surprised that Sheppard had decided to head there next. Sheppard had great instincts, even if he did overthink them sometimes.

"Are either of them moving?" Sheppard's voice was tense, stunner still drawn and ready.

"Negative," replied McKay. "They're stationary."

"We're already headed toward the power room," Sheppard said.

"Keep us informed of your progress, John," Weir replied.

Ronon rolled his eyes. Weir got under his skin with her constant hovering, but Sheppard put up with it, so Ronon never said anything.

Minutes passed as they jogged toward the power room, moving silently. They didn't meet anyone in the halls now, and were making good time when McKay's voice crackled over the radios again

"John! Are you there yet?"

"No, Rodney," Sheppard ground out, irritated.

"You gotta get there faster. Caldwell's trying to shut down power to the control room." Ronon could hear the urgency in McKay's voice and he started to worry. He hated when technological problems got in the way of simply hunting somebody down.

Sheppard picked up the pace and they were outside the power room in moments. They split up and silently eased to either side of the door leading into the room. They paused, looking at each other, and Sheppard just nodded. They knew what to do.

Sheppard crouched low to cover and Ronon lifted his arm, moving his upper body out and around the door. In the split second it took Ronon to swing around the door jamb, he saw Caldwell at the control panel, his back to the door. Something was wrong about that, but Ronon didn't have time to figure it out, and he fired.

The red pulse of Ronon's gun scattered in a thousand directions and yellow light shimmered in a curve around Caldwell. Ronon saw Caldwell turn, grin on his face and Berretta in hand. Caldwell shot twice in their direction, and Ronon and John jerked back, pressing into the walls on either side of the door as bullets whined past. Sheppard leaned around the door and squeezed off a stunner shot several yards to the side of Caldwell, causing sparks and smoke to fly from the control panel at the bottom of the console.

"Fall back," hissed John, and they backed away from the power room, guns trained on Caldwell, but he had his back to them again, ignoring them.

They rounded the corner and pressed against the wall, sliding to the door and panting from exertion. "He's got some kind of shield," puffed Sheppard.

"Yeah," Ronon replied. "That's why he had his back to us." He should've known that Caldwell was too smart to turn his back to the door.

McKay's voice came over the radio. "What's going on down there? Caldwell's moving out of the power room through the other door."

"Probably because I shot the crap out of the console. He's got some kind of shield, Rodney," Sheppard said. "I've never seen anything like that. It's around only him."

There was silence on the other end for a moment. "Of course. I read about them in an SG-1 report. The Goa'uld have personal shields that deflect energy weapons," McKay replied. "It's controlled by some kind of wrist guard."

"That information would've been useful earlier, Rodney," growled Sheppard, sweat dripping down his temple.

"How was I supposed to know he'd bring one with him? I'm not clairvoyant," huffed McKay.

"Fine." Sheppard stood. "We'll just have to use bullets."

"That won't work either." McKay was emphatic. "Those shields deflect any high-speed projectile, even bullets."

Sheppard sighed. "Any bright ideas, Rodney?"

"You'll have to use some kind of relatively slow moving object, like a... like a... a spear or an arrow or something," McKay advised.

Sheppard snorted. "Well, unfortunately, I left my medieval weaponry in my room today. How am I—"

"What about throwing a knife?" Ronon interrupted.

"Yes, that would work," shouted McKay, and Ronon and Sheppard winced at the sudden increase in volume. "But you gotta hurry. Caldwell's moving pretty fast."

"Can you tell where he's headed?" Sheppard asked.

"Um, looks like he might be going to the auxiliary control room two levels above you. He's probably still trying to divert power away from the main control room."

"All right. We're headed after him. I assume there's a security team heading toward the other Goa'uld life sign?" Sheppard questioned.

"Yes, Major Lorne was on his way, but we lost radio contact with his team," Weir responded.

Ronon saw Sheppard frown a little at that, but he stood up. "Let's go," Sheppard muttered.

Sheppard started to head in the direction that Caldwell had disappeared, but Ronon stopped him. "I think we can get there before him. He'll have to use the transporter and walk down two corridors to get to the auxiliary control room." Ronon gestured with his head. "It's at the top of these stairs. If we run we can beat him there."

"Good thinking, Chewie. Take point." Sheppard nodded.

Ronon reflected that this was what made Sheppard a good commander. He took suggestions and listened to his people, and never let his ego keep him from recognizing a good move. That's why everyone under Sheppard's command respected him so much and followed through when he did give an order. If only Kell had been that kind of man... Ronon shook his head. That was a thought for another day. He bounded up the stairs, Sheppard behind him.

They climbed the two flights easily in minutes, and headed toward the auxiliary control room to find it still empty. Crossing the room in a rush, they crouched down behind a console opposite the door and Ronon holstered his gun. He pulled a long knife from his belt and handed it to Sheppard.

Sheppard looked over at him, surprised.

"You throw the knife. I'll jump him," Ronon explained.

Sheppard just nodded. Ronon suggested it because it was a good strategy, but also because he thought it might do Sheppard some good to hurl a knife at the guy who'd caused him so much trouble.

They waited in the dimly lit room, trying to slow their breathing. Ronon closed his eyes and breathed deeply, waiting for the moment when he could let loose and tackle Caldwell. Ronon had never really liked the guy, mostly because the Colonel seemed to have some kind of beef with Sheppard, so he was looking forward to this. Ronon knew that this wasn't really Caldwell, but a punch was a punch.

They heard the light sound of rubber tread on the floor, and they both tensed. Sheppard looked at Ronon, and they moved as one. Sheppard stood, rearing back and hurling the knife at Caldwell, and a second later, Ronon hoisted himself up and jumped over the console. Just as they'd hoped, the knife sank into Caldwell's shoulder, distracting him so that Ronon's weight came down on him unexpectedly.

They fell to the floor with a thud, and as Ronon wrestled to keep Caldwell on the floor, he was shocked at the resistance he met. He'd believed Sheppard when he had described how hard it had been to take the guy down, but he hadn't expected quite so much raw strength. Ronon struggled to stay on top of him and put all his strength behind one good punch to the mouth.

As Ronon hoped, Caldwell lifted his arm to return the hit, and Ronon gripped his wrist. He had to let go of Caldwell's other arm to reach across and tear the shield from him, and Ronon took a massive blow to the jaw. Head ringing, Ronon flung the device across the room and allowed Caldwell to roll him over.

As soon as the man's body was between him and the console, Ronon saw blue light surge over Caldwell's body and felt him stiffen and collapse to the floor. Ronon looked up to see Sheppard still behind the console, leveling a second stunner shot at Caldwell for good measure. Caldwell went still.

Ronon let out a gasp and sprawled on the floor, breathing heavily and rubbing his jaw.

"Told you he was strong," smirked Sheppard.

Ronon glared at Sheppard and hauled himself up from the floor, opening and closing his mouth wide, testing to see if his jaw was broken. Satisfied it wasn't, he pulled the knife from Caldwell's shoulder and cleaned it on his pant leg.

"This is Sheppard. We have Caldwell," Sheppard spoke into his radio. "Send a medical team and two security teams. And tell them to bring restraints."

"They're on their way, John." Weir replied.

Sheppard relaxed a little, but kept his stunner leveled at Caldwell. He wasn't taking any chances, and Ronon didn't blame him.

"Still no word from Lorne?" Sheppard said into his radio, looking worried.

"No, we're still out of contact, but the life signs of his team are all still with the other Goa'uld," McKay reported.

"Let me know if you hear anything. Sheppard out."

Happy to relax for the moment, Ronon and Sheppard waited in silence.

"How'd you know?" Sheppard asked suddenly.

"Know what?" Ronon feigned innocence, but he knew exactly what Sheppard was talking about.

"Where to find me. Before."

"You weren't answering your radio." Ronon moved to lean against the wall. His ears were still ringing from Caldwell's punch and he shook his head, trying to clear it.

"I could've just been asleep," Sheppard objected, but Ronon could hear amusement in his voice.

"You don't ever go to sleep before midnight."

"That didn't mean I was in her room." Sheppard insisted.

"Teyla wasn't answering her radio, either." Ronon tried to hide his grin.

"Maybe she was asleep, too." Sheppard kept the stunner on Caldwell, but glanced over at Ronon, who was trying to keep a straight face.

"Teyla never goes to sleep before midnight, either."

He could see Sheppard trying to suppress the self-conscious grin that spread across his face, but it wasn't working.

"That good, huh?" Ronon grinned back.

Sheppard colored a little. "Yeah. Before we were interrupted. But yeah... things were going well," he said, attempting nonchalance and failing.

Ronon chuckled. "About time."

"This is Major Lorne. We need a security team to Lieutenant Cadman's quarters ASAP." Lorne sounded winded, but calm over the radio.

Ronon and Sheppard looked at each other, eyebrows raised.

"Sorry, Major, did you say Lieutenant Cadman?" Weir's voice sounded surprised.

"Yes, ma'am. We have Cadman restrained," Lorne replied.

Sheppard frowned deeply. "Cadman's the other Goa'uld?" He was shocked.

"Yes, sir." Lorne seemed unwilling to elaborate any further at the moment.

All the teams met at the holding cells, Caldwell and Cadman laid out on gurneys, still unconscious from stunner blasts. Ronon could see that Sheppard was really rattled by the fact that Cadman had been Caldwell's accomplice, and he was surprised himself. Cadman was one of Sheppard's most trusted officers, and Ronon thought of her as a good soldier, but he supposed it wasn't her fault if she were taken over by a Goa'uld.

Caldwell and Cadman were placed in separate holding cells with four guards assigned to each cell. The security teams were milling about aimlessly, and Lorne dismissed them.

"Rodney, are you sure there aren't any other Goa'uld life signs on the detector?" Sheppard asked over the radio.

"Positive. We've got only the two. We're on our way to you." McKay was confident.

Sheppard turned to Lorne. It was just the three of them now, and the strain was starting to show on Sheppard's face.

"Cadman?" Sheppard demanded, incredulous.

Lorne looked chagrined and shifted his P-90 uncomfortably. "Yeah. I'm as surprised as you are, Colonel. We got there and she played innocent for awhile, but then she saw we weren't going to buy it. She put up a hell of a fight—we had to stun her three times."

"Damn," Sheppard said under his breath, disappointed.

They heard the voices of Weir and McKay in the corridor and moved out to meet them.

McKay looked disturbed. "I stopped by Cadman's quarters on the way here. Zelenka was already going through her computer. Apparently their eventual plan was to fly the city back to the Milky Way."

"Why?" Ronon demanded, scowling. Sometimes he felt brief moments of irritation that people from another galaxy thought of Atlantis as belonging to them. The Ancestors had left it in Pegasus, where it belonged.

"I guess their initial plan was to destroy the city to prevent the Wraith from making it to Earth. But once they got here and realized what a weapon it was, they changed their minds. Why destroy the city when you can fly it home?" McKay mused.

Weir frowned, arms crossed. "But there's nowhere near enough power to fly the city. We just have the one ZPM."

"I guess they had plans for finding more. They weren't in a hurry... Zelenka said it looked like they were planning to be here awhile."

Lorne nodded. "There was a cache of Goa'uld weapons in Cadman's room. I guess I just don't understand why she waited three weeks to free Caldwell."

"Biding her time," posited McKay. "She was slowly worming her way into gaining control of the city's operating system, using viruses and backdoor programs. If she'd done it all at once, we would have noticed and she'd have been exposed."

Ronon shook his head. "You're losing your touch, McKay. Time was you would've spotted it immediately." God, he got such a kick out of ribbing McKay.

McKay glared at Ronon. "It's not my fault if Zelenka insists on doing low-level security sweeps on the operating system. I can't constantly be hanging over his shoulder, fixing his mistakes." Ronon restrained a laugh and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sheppard smothering a grin.

Weir sighed. "Well, regardless of what their plans were, we have our orders. I dialed Earth a few minutes ago and spoke to General Landry. Apparently, they knew about the second Goa'uld but had no way to warn us. The SGC wants Cadman and Caldwell sent to Earth within the hour."

"I thought that they didn't have a facility secure enough to hold them," objected Sheppard, hands on his hips.

"Apparently the Tok'ra have finally arrived and are ready to begin the extraction process," she explained. Ronon thought she looked really tired and realized suddenly that it was the middle of the night, possibly early morning already.

"Fine with me," retorted Sheppard. "The sooner he's—I mean they—are out of here, the better."

Weir looked distinctly uncomfortable, and Ronon suspected that she didn't like what she had to say next.

"John, the SGC wants you to accompany Caldwell and Cadman back to Earth. And they want Teyla to come, too." Weir looked down at the ground, avoiding Sheppard's eyes.

"What, right now?" Sheppard was disbelieving.

"Yes, now."

"What the hell for?" Now Sheppard had his arms crossed and looked belligerent.

"They want your full report on this entire business with the Goa'uld. And they want Teyla to give a statement about what happened to her, again." Weir looked distinctly awkward and Ronon knew she hated being the one to tell Sheppard this.

"What? She already gave her statement!" Sheppard was almost yelling, and Ronon saw Lorne gesture at him and McKay with his head.

Ronon was more than happy to get out of this conversation, but he felt bad for Sheppard. He knew Sheppard had been pissed about the whole statement thing, and was going to be furious that Teyla had to go to Earth to give another one.

Ronon turned to follow Lorne up the hallway. He stretched and yawned. It had been a long night, and he was starting to feel the fatigue that settled in after the adrenaline rush of combat. He thought about going to check on Teyla, but figured that Sheppard would be the one to do that.

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

**Title:** Deliverance, Chapter 7 of 9  
><strong>Rating:<strong> M  
><strong>Warnings:<strong> None  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> I don't own Stargate or its characters.

**Comments:** This story is loosely based on the episode "Critical Mass." Emphasis on "loosely." It's set somewhat before the canon episode. Some lines are taken directly from the episode and belong to the writers and producers. "Critical Mass" was written by Brad Wright & Carl Binder.

**Chapter 7**

John wanted to punch the wall or throw something. Maybe both. He couldn't believe that the SGC was asking Teyla to come to Earth for yet another statement.

"I'm aware that Teyla gave her statement, John. But the Air Force wants her to give a statement to the SGC's legal advisors," Elizabeth said quietly, looking down at the floor, arms crossed.

"She already gave a statement to a psychologist, Elizabeth," John ground out through clenched teeth.

"But Dr. Heightmeyer is a civilian contractor," she reminded him patiently.

"So send a written statement," John said, trying not to yell.

"You know that's not how it works, John," Elizabeth said softly. John could tell that she was not happy with this news either, but that didn't make him feel any better about it.

She looked down at the floor again. "It's highly unlikely that there will be a court martial for Colonel Caldwell because of the extenuating circumstances, but they still have to follow legal procedure, especially for this kind of assault. The Judge Advocate General attached to the SGC is insisting."

"There is no reason to make Teyla relive this whole thing over and over, especially to someone she doesn't even know. This is bullshit and you know it, Elizabeth," he retorted, and he could feel blood pulsing in his temples.

Elizabeth sighed and just shook her head helplessly.

John did finally kick the wall, but he knew that Elizabeth had no control over this. The orders came from the U.S. Air Force and she had no authority to override them.

"I'm sorry, John," she said softly, looking up at him finally, and he knew that she truly was. Teyla was Elizabeth's friend as well, and none of them wanted to see her go through anymore pain.

"I know," he muttered. John turned and trudged up the corridor, and Elizabeth fell in beside him.

"You know this means that we'll be gone for three weeks at the very least." John tried to breathe deeply and push down his anger.

"Yes. But the Daedalus is just one day from Earth right now, so hopefully you'll have a quick turn around," she reminded him.

John looked over at Elizabeth when they reached the intersection that led toward Teyla's room. "We'll meet you in the gate room in a few minutes," he said, resigned.

Elizabeth just nodded and John turned and walked toward Teyla's quarters. His stomach sank at the idea of telling her that she had to go to Earth and continue this messy business. He wanted to be able to just put it all behind them.

As he neared Teyla's quarters, John remembered what had happened between them just hours ago, and he flushed as the memory of it swept over him.

It was the most intimate experience with a woman he'd ever had, and they hadn't even taken their clothes off.

In the last few weeks John had tried to maintain a careful reserve when he was around Teyla, and had gone to her quarters expecting nothing but a brief goodnight. When she had reached for him, he had felt uncomfortable. He had returned her embrace, feeling awkward, but she had clung to him like she needed him for the moment, and he had relaxed a little in the moonlit room and his mind had drifted away for a minute, imagining what it would be like if she actually belonged to him.

He'd been aghast to find that he had unconsciously slid his hand lower on her back, and he'd jerked away, terrified that she would think he was like Caldwell, reaching for what he had no right to.

She had said something about him comforting her, and he couldn't pretend to her anymore, and he had blurted out the thing he'd been running from all this time.

And then his heart had stopped when she'd asked for more than friendship. He felt frozen. He'd never expected this from her, but here she was, offering what he'd wanted for so long, and he'd been too stunned to even speak.

And the weird thing was, he'd almost walked away. In that moment John realized that reason he had never pursued Teyla was less about a fear of disrupting protocol and more about not wanting to make himself vulnerable to her. If he accepted her offer and she wanted him for just that night, or for a casual arrangement, he didn't think he could live with it.

But this was Teyla. And she had gazed up at him with entreating eyes and what had looked almost like fear and he couldn't resist anymore. And he knew that even if tonight was all she was willing to give, he would take it, and swallow any regrets later.

He'd been so worried about her injuries, afraid he'd hurt her or be too aggressive. But she had clearly wanted more from him and when he thought about it, the intimacy of what had happened nearly took his breath away. She had let him touch her, even welcomed it, and he would have done anything to please her. No woman had ever let him see her so clearly, been so fearless in sharing her experience. Even with Nancy, which was the closest he'd ever come to letting down his walls, there had never been that kind of unreserved exposure and vulnerability.

John reached Teyla's quarters and asked the city to unlock the door without really thinking about it. The doors slid open and he stepped in, only to feel the blunt nose of a stunner against his ribs.

Raising his hands in the air slowly, he turned his head and saw Teyla pulling the weapon away.

"John," she said genially. "I was not sure who it was."

He grinned sheepishly. "I forgot to tell you it was me coming in," he answered, lowering his arms.

Teyla just raised an eyebrow at him. "You are fortunate that I did not stun you immediately."

John nodded. "Has anyone ever gotten the drop on you, Teyla?"

"It is rare," she smiled, tilting her head.

The doors slid shut behind him. The moon had sunk below the horizon, and the blue radiance was gone, replaced by dim starlight and the glow of a bedside lamp.

"What happened?" she asked, concern on her face as she looked up at him. She was still wide awake and he figured she'd been pacing the room, waiting for news about Caldwell.

"Caldwell's back in the holding cell. And apparently there was a second Goa'uld, an accomplice," John frowned, running his hand through his hair.

"That is how he escaped," Teyla surmised. "Who was it?"

"Lieutenant Cadman," John said, reluctantly.

Teyla's eyebrows shot up. "Laura?" she asked disbelievingly.

"Yeah, I know. Weird," John sighed, inching to stand a little closer to her so he could feel the warmth of her body radiating across the space between them.

Teyla looked stunned for a moment at the news about Cadman, then seemed to gather her composure. Her face softened and she reached to touch John's arm, and started to say something, but John interrupted her.

"Teyla, I have to go now," he said awkwardly.

Teyla's face closed and she withdrew her hand from him. "I see," she said quietly.

"No, no, not like that," John rushed to explain, grabbing her hand before she could step back. "I mean I have to leave Atlantis. I've been ordered to accompany Caldwell and Cadman to Earth." He pulled her to stand a little closer to him, close enough that he could smell her hair and the faint scent of incense on her clothes.

Teyla's expression relaxed, but she still looked disappointed. "Why?"

"The SGC wants me to brief them on this whole Goa'uld situation, in person," he explained, then hesitated. "And they want you to come, too," he said, embarrassed.

It almost seemed like that was good news to her, because she smiled at him, her beautiful mouth curving upward. "Do they want me to brief them as well?"

"No..." John said uncomfortably. "They want you to give another statement about what happened with Caldwell. To an Air Force lawyer." He took a deep breath and looked down at her, feeling terrible. "Teyla, I am so sorry about this. I feel awful that they keep putting you through this."

"Through what?" Teyla questioned, looking puzzled.

"Making you give all these statements and crap. They keep making you relive the whole thing," he explained, chagrined. "And they want us to leave in—" he checked his watch—"forty minutes."

Teyla smiled faintly and squeezed his hand. "John, everyone is concerned about how I feel and worried that I do not wish to talk about what happened. But I do not mind."

Now John was puzzled. "How can it not bother you?"

Teyla tilted her head and looked away, trying to find a way to explain. "Bad things happen all the time, John. If I let every terrible thing that has happened in my life destroy my spirit, then I would have given up long ago." She looked back up at John. "What happened with Colonel Caldwell was difficult, but it is in the past now. Talking about it does not make it happen all over again or make me feel victimized."

"Oh." John blinked.

Teyla laughed softly. "I am much more resilient than you give me credit for. Please do not feel badly about this. I have never visited Earth and I am looking forward to seeing it with you," she said, leaning into him slightly.

The anxiety in John's gut finally uncoiled. Seeing the situation through Teyla's eyes changed everything for him, and he felt his anger fading.

"Okay," he smiled down at her, relief sweeping through him. "I'm going to go pack my bag, and I'll come back for you in about twenty minutes. How does that sound?"

Teyla nodded. "I will be ready." She seemed to waver for a moment, then looked up at him, and her face was so familiar and inviting, it was all John could do to not bend down and kiss her. But there wasn't really time for that right now.

Teyla cleared her throat. "I would like to continue our earlier... conversation at some point," she said softly, gazing up at him.

John smiled down at her. "I'd like that, too," he replied, and squeezed her hand. There was a lot more he wanted to say, but they didn't have time, and he hoped he'd get an opportunity to talk with her later.

A smile spread slowly across her face and she nodded up at him, and he gripped her hand once more and turned to go.

It took John just five minutes to pack the few things he needed, and on his way to the control room, he radioed Lorne. "Major, I'm putting you in charge of transporting the..." He was going to say prisoners, but that didn't seem quite right. "...the detainees to the gate room." John looked at his watch. "I want them in the gate room in fifteen minutes, but not a minute before."

"Copy that," replied Lorne, and John thought for not the first time that the guy needed a promotion. Lorne was reliable and simply invaluable.

John ran up the stairs to the control room and barged into Elizabeth's office. She looked up from her laptop with surprise. "John. You're not due to leave for another twenty minutes," she said, resting her forearms against the edge of the desk.

"I know," he said, setting his bag on the floor. He sat opposite Elizabeth and leaned forward. "I've been thinking. I don't want Caldwell and Teyla in the gate room at the same time," he said in a low voice.

Elizabeth paused for a moment, looking down at her desk, then nodded. "I can see why you'd feel that way. What do you have in mind?"

"I want Caldwell and Cadman to go through the gate first, then I want the SGC to have them escorted from their gate room immediately. Teyla and I will walk through the gate a few minutes later."

Elizabeth nodded again. "That sounds fine. As soon as we dial Earth, I'll radio the SGC and arrange it."

John blew out a sigh of relief. "Thanks." He'd been worried that Caldwell might say something to Teyla if he saw her, and John didn't think he'd be able to control himself if Caldwell made a scene.

He left Elizabeth's office and headed to Teyla's quarters, but she met him in the corridor before he was halfway there. "I am ready," she said calmly, bag in hand.

"Okay. We're gonna go wait in Weir's office for a bit," John said as they walked toward the control tower.

Teyla gazed at him appraisingly for a moment, and John knew she understood why he was having her wait in Elizabeth's office. All she said was, "Very well," and John wondered if she knew him really well or if she was just quick on the uptake. Probably both.

When they reached the office, the gate was already open, blue light shimmering across the floor. He heard Elizabeth say, "Thank you, General O'Neill. They'll be stepping through the gate in a few minutes."

Elizabeth looked up at them as they entered the room, but didn't say anything, just nodded. "Thanks," John said quietly.

"Teyla," Elizabeth greeted her. "This is your first trip to Earth. It's not under the most pleasant circumstances, but I hope that you enjoy it at least a little."

John turned away, only half-listening to the conversation between the two women. He looked down at the gate through the office window—noticing briefly that the glass had finally been replaced—and saw Lorne and his men enter the room.

Caldwell and Cadman had apparently awoken from being stunned, and walked, hands bound tightly, in the middle of a group of Marines. As they crossed the floor of the gate room, Cadman turned and looked up at the window, almost as if she knew John would be watching. The hate and anger in her eyes was like nothing John had ever seen from her, and he knew that Cadman was definitely not herself.

The Marines escorted the two Goa'uld to the edge of the event horizon, and two soldiers stepped to either side of them and drew their side arms, keeping the prisoners under gun point. John heard Lorne give the order, and Cadman and Caldwell stepped through the gate alone. John assumed an armed escort was waiting on the other side at the SGC, and he turned away, satisfied.

"...and if John doesn't take you on at least one site-seeing trip, I want you to complain directly to General O'Neill," Elizabeth was smiling over at Teyla.

Teyla laughed. "I promise I will insist on at least one excursion."

"You about ready?" asked John, pretending he hadn't heard the exchange.

"Yes." Teyla rose and lifted her bag over one shoulder, and John squelched the impulse to take it from her.

"Goodbye, Dr. Weir. We will see you soon," Teyla said softly, reaching over to touch Elizabeth's shoulder, and turned to go.

"Bye, Elizabeth." John looked over at Weir and remembered how difficult all this must be for her. "I'm sure that the SGC will do everything to help Caldwell. And Cadman," he said quietly.

Elizabeth nodded, face composed, and her only reply was, "Good luck, John."

John followed Teyla down the stairs toward the gate and stopped in front of Major Lorne. "Lorne, you're in charge of things until I get back. Try not to blow the place up while I'm gone," he said, expression serious.

Lorne grinned at him. "Yes, sir."

John turned and looked up at Elizabeth's office to see her standing at the window, gazing down at them, hands folded in front of her, and John felt a sudden rush of sympathy for her. The odd expression on her face made him wonder what she was really feeling—he wasn't sure whether Elizabeth expected Caldwell to come back at all, or if she even wanted him to.

John stepped through the gate with Teyla beside him and the tingly, cold feeling of traveling through the wormhole swept over him. That never got old.

They emerged on the other side, and John was immediately alert, scanning the room for any sign of Caldwell and Cadman, but the gate room was empty except for General O'Neill, who was waiting for them at the bottom of the ramp.

"Colonel Sheppard," he nodded, extending his hand. John returned the shake, seeing that O'Neill was not expecting a salute. He had always liked O'Neill's casual approach to military protocol.

"Teyla," O'Neill smiled. "It's great to finally meet you," he said, extending a hand to her as well. "I wish it were under better circumstances."

"Thank you, General O'Neill. I am looking forward to my visit," she assured him, gripping his hand with a broad smile.

O'Neill gestured toward to the door. "Hate to say it, but I have to send you both to the infirmary. Just procedure." They headed through the door, and John was relieved to see the hallway was already empty, with the exception of two airmen.

"These gentlemen will show you to the infirmary. Teyla, your interview with Captain Jenkins is scheduled after your exam," O'Neill informed them. John thought he saw embarrassment flit across the general's face and wondered if O'Neill felt as bad about this whole business as he did. "After that the airman can show you to your quarters. We've got you in the VIP rooms, but don't abuse the free room service," O'Neill joked, and made his exit.

John and Teyla followed the airmen through the corridors, winding their way through the hallways of the SGC toward the infirmary. John wanted to say something to her, ask her if she was okay or just find out how she was feeling, but there were so many people around and he felt tongue-tied, so he just walked next to her, silent.

John's exam was quick and cursory, and when it was finished, he hopped off the bed and headed to the door, looking around for Teyla. He finally spotted her in white scrubs, sitting on a bed across the room, her feet dangling above the floor. Teyla smiled at him over the shoulder of the nurse who was drawing her blood, and John felt guilty again for putting her through all of this.

"I'm going to my room," he mouthed at her, gesturing with his thumb toward the door. She nodded and smiled again. What John really wanted was ask her if she would come find him when she was done, but figured it wasn't really appropriate with so many people around, so he just smiled at her and followed the airman from the room.

John's quarters were typical SGC, half barracks, half hotel room. It was pretty bare, just a double bed and a nightstand with a stuffed chair next to it and a table and folding chairs on the other side of the room.

He sat on the edge of the bed inside the circle of yellow light cast by the lamp. He bent down to untie his boots, and suddenly a wave of exhaustion slammed into him and he realized that he'd been awake for almost twenty-six hours. He had no idea what time it was here on Earth, and his whole body buzzed with fatigue. So much had happened in the last few hours that it was overwhelming.

He thought again of Elizabeth's face as she had watched them leave. He had a hunch that things were over between her and Caldwell. Not because Elizabeth couldn't get past the Goa'uld thing—they'd seen enough alien possessions and odd circumstances to know that there were things people weren't responsible for. No, he figured it was because Elizabeth wasn't going to open herself up again to what she perceived as a weakness. She was obsessed with the city and the Ancients, and he doubted that would ever change.

John stood and removed his holster and belt, coiling them in one of the metal chairs, and crossed the room, pulling off his jacket and laying it over the back of the stuffed chair. He considered for a moment, then pulled back the covers and got under the blankets with t-shirt and pants on. He was still hoping that Teyla would stop by after she finished with her interview.

He propped himself up on two pillows and looked over at the nightstand, pleased to see a worn Golf Digest at the bottom of a pile of magazines. He spread it on his lap, flipping through the pages quickly.

Would Teyla come see him? John had no idea how long her interview would take. He hadn't been able to ask her in front of everyone to come find him, but John hoped that she would know he wanted to see her. Leafing through the magazine blindly, he started to worry about what had happened in her quarters before Ronon had come to get him. Or what hadn't happened.

Maybe Teyla was just having a down moment and wanted somebody to be there for her. She'd never given him any reason to think she was interested in him before. It wasn't that John thought Teyla would use him, but maybe things had just gotten carried away in the heat of the moment.

He didn't even really know how she felt about him—all she'd asked for was to be comforted as more than a friend. That could mean anything—she hadn't even said she had feelings for him. What if he had misinterpreted the emotion in her eyes? God knows he was terrible at reading women.

But he didn't want to end up like Elizabeth, married to the job and shut down to any kind of opportunity for connections—he'd lived too long like that and was tired of the aching solitude.

John dropped his head back against the wall, closing his eyes and sighing. Ronon had told him he made things more complicated than they were. Maybe that's what he was doing now. But she hadn't really given any indication...

The gears of his mind ground slowly to a halt and John fell asleep.

TBC


	8. Chapter 8

**Title:** Deliverance, Chapter 8 of 9  
><strong>Rating:<strong> M  
><strong>Warnings:<strong> None  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> I don't own Stargate or its characters.

**Comments:** This story is loosely based on the episode "Critical Mass." Emphasis on "loosely." It's set somewhat before the canon episode. Some lines are taken directly from the episode and belong to the writers and producers. "Critical Mass" was written by Brad Wright & Carl Binder.

**Chapter 8**

John was startled awake by a touch on his shoulder. He bolted upright in bed, bleary-eyed, and turned to see Teyla standing next to him, the outline of her body silhouetted against the yellow light of the bedside lamp.

"Teyla." He looked around, squinting in the light, and realized that the golf magazine had slid off his knees onto the mattress, and he had been slumped down in the pillows. "I didn't mean to drift off."

"I hope you do not mind that I came into your room. You did not answer my knock," she said a little hesitantly.

"No, no, it's fine. It's great. I was hoping you'd come find me," he stumbled over his words. "I didn't mean to fall asleep." He cleared his throat, sitting up straight and trying to shake himself awake. "How long have I been asleep?"

Teyla moved to sit in the padded chair opposite him and looked up at the clock over the bed. "It has been two hours since you left the infirmary."

"Really? Wow." He looked over at her, rubbing his eyes, and realized she was probably tired as well, judging by the way she leaned her head back on the chair and sighed. She was wearing what he thought of as her civilian clothes, a printed Athosian top and dark pants, and was pushing her shoes off with her toes. "How did the exam go? And the interview?" he asked, dizzy with relief that she had come to find him.

"Both went well. I was in the infirmary for a long time because they insisted on re-running every test and exam that Dr. Beckett did when I was first injured," she smiled, pulling her socks off and stuffing them in her boots one at a time.

"Yeah, they're pretty thorough," he nodded, feeling irritated with the SGC's clumsiness again. They just didn't know when to stop.

"And the interview with Captain Jenkins went well. I liked her very much."

"You did?" John was surprised, picking up the magazine and tossing it on the nightstand.

"Yes," replied Teyla, looking down and running a finger across the fading red lines on her arm. "She was very kind and we spent most of the time talking about sparring."

"Sparring?" John's eyebrows flew up. Definitely not what he'd expected.

"Yes. Lisa—Captain Jenkins—practices karate and was very interested to hear about my sparring lessons," said Teyla, serenely, and laid her head back on the chair again.

John knew he should stop being surprised by Teyla. Of course she could charm anyone—even a JAG officer.

They were quiet for a few moments, the silence pressing hollowly against his ears, and John knew it was the moment to talk about what had happened in Teyla's quarters. This was always the hardest part of dating and relationships, and he was never quite sure how he'd made it through this in the past. He'd had a stiff drink before he had proposed to Nancy and had still barely gotten through it with his nerves intact.

John's tongue felt stuck to the roof of his mouth, and the familiar twinge of anxiety in the pit of his stomach tightened, but he pushed himself to say something.

"So, about what happened tonight—yesterday—I have no idea what day it is—I'm really sorry that I had to walk out in the middle of things like that. It's not exactly the smoothest move I've ever made," he said, looking over at her warily and trying to breathe deeply.

Teyla raised her head from the chair and gave him a gentle smile. "John, as I said before, you need not worry about it. I was not offended in the least. The situation was beyond your control." She leaned forward in the chair, resting her elbows on her knees, her expression gentle with understanding.

John let out a heavy sigh, relieved but still walking a tightrope of earnest discomfort. "Caldwell could've had better timing," he said with a lopsided grin, trying to distract himself with a joke. Teyla chuckled but said nothing.

John rubbed his jaw, realizing that he was in serious need of a shave. "Look, Teyla, I'm really bad at talking about... this kind of thing," he said, gesturing vaguely. "So I'm just going to say it as simply as I can."

Sitting up straighter, John rested his forearms on his bent knees, gazing across the room at the insipid watercolor print framed on the opposite wall. "For awhile now, I've been pretending that I don't have feelings for you. But that hasn't been going so well lately." He smiled faintly and looked over at her, but looked away again, afraid of what he might see in her eyes. Or might not see.

"I would have never said anything because I didn't think you felt that way about me, but after last night..." John trailed off and swallowed hard. "I want you to know that I really care about you." He swallowed again. "A lot." He stared down at his knees and noticed that the stitches of the duvet's grid pattern were starting to fray.

John looked up to see Teyla's mouth curve in a smile and he fleetingly wondered if it was the same smile she'd had as a young girl.

"John, I do have feelings for you as well," she said softly, and to John it seemed the air in the room rushed back into place.

"Really?" John felt a goofy grin spreading across his face, but couldn't do much to control it.

"Of course," said Teyla, surprised. "Did I not demonstrate that to you?"

John felt a little embarrassed. "Yeah, you did. But I was afraid that maybe it was just a spur of the moment thing..." He trailed off, unsure of himself.

"I assure you that it was not," she said evenly.

He was suddenly full of questions. "Why didn't you say anything? Like when I kissed you a few months ago?" He felt an exhilaration spreading in his chest like warmth.

Teyla's mouth twisted down a little, and she hesitated, glancing down at her hands. "I am not very good at..." She paused, searching for the right words. "I am not good at allowing others to get close to me."

She seemed faintly embarrassed, and it filled John with a burst of sympathy. He gave her a sideways smile. "I can maybe sympathize with that."

"I suppose so," she said, smiling a little too, and he could see the tension in her body ease a bit.

"Maybe we could work on that together," he said quietly, hazarding a direct gaze into her eyes. Right now it was as close as he could comfortably come to discussing the possibility of a future between them, and he hoped she understood what he was saying.

Warmth like a flame leapt into her eyes, and she was suddenly transparent to him. John saw the woman beneath the cool exterior, a woman who wanted him as much as he wanted her, a woman who had been afraid to let down her walls and let him in.

She was rubbing her upper arm with one hand, and John realized goosebumps had risen on her skin.

"You're cold?" he asked.

"Yes, I should have realized it would be chilly so far underground," she answered. "I left my jacket in my room."

Lifting the covers on the bed a little, John smiled over at her. "It's warm over here," he said temptingly.

She smiled back, sitting up straighter in the chair. "Are you sure?" she asked, hesitant.

"Am I sure it's warm over here? Definitely," he grinned. "Come on."

John scooted over and held the covers up while Teyla slid in beside him. She leaned back on the pillows next to him, and he slid his right arm around her shoulders, pulling the blankets up over her with the other.

"Better?"

"Yes. Much better." Teyla snuggled in closer to him, leaning into his body, legs pressed up against his, and John certainly began to feel warmer. They lay quietly for awhile, and he finally spoke.

"Teyla, I have a confession to make," he said somberly.

"Yes?" She looked up at him, a little apprehensive.

"You know how after I kissed you in the gym that day, you told me not to think about it?"

She was chagrined. "Yes, I remember."

"Well... I _did_ think about it," he confessed.

She looked up at him and laughed, and he pulled a serious face. "I thought about it a lot, in fact," he added.

"What if I give you something more to think about?" she said, smiling broadly now, and turned her face up to his, offering her lips.

John bent down and brushed his mouth against hers, and felt an almost painful thrill of elation tightening his chest. Her mouth was warm and giving, and he closed his eyes and clung to the moment, breathing in the fragrance of her hair and that indefinable, feminine scent that was Teyla.

He pulled back from her lips. "And I might have thought about this," he murmured, placing his mouth against her neck, and she arched into his kiss.

"Did you?" she said, amused. "What else did you think about?" He felt her pulse pick up under his lips and smiled against her neck.

He raised his mouth to her ear. "I might have thought about this," he whispered, his lips just brushing her ear, and ran his hand down her arm and pushed the covers away, sliding his fingers around her hip, squeezing gently.

"And what else?" she asked hungrily, lifting her arm and running the tips of her fingers across his chest.

John looked down at her stomach and slid his hand under the hem of her shirt, running his fingers slowly across the silky skin of her belly. "I thought about this," he said, trying to keep his voice even.

He looked over at her, and her sharp inhalation and the clear pleasure on her face, her eyes closed and lips parted, sent his own pulse throbbing and his blood rushing to his extremities.

Sliding his hand farther under her shirt, John boldly ran a finger along the underside of one breast, then up to trace slow circles around her tightening nipple.

"John," Teyla breathed, looking up at him, and the heat in her eyes made his breath catch in his throat. She grasped a handful of his t-shirt, tugging it up, and he pulled his hand from under her top, helping her pull his shirt up and over his head, and threw it to the floor.

Propped up on one elbow, John leaned over her, gently sliding his hand under her right side. "You okay?" he asked, worried. Her injured ribs were under his hand and he hesitated.

"Yes, I am fine," Teyla nodded, a little breathless, so he slid his hand further underneath her to the buttons that ran down the back of her shirt. John released each button, proud of himself for doing it all one-handed. Tugging at the side of her top, he pulled it from her, and she lifted her arms to let him draw it from her, and he tossed it to the floor.

Teyla was now bare from the waist up and John looked down the sinuous lines of her body, taking in the sight of her bronze skin and the luscious curves of her breasts, and his whole body flushed with heat. He swallowed hard and looked up to her face. "I might've thought about this, too," he said, glancing back down at her body meaningfully, and Teyla laughed, running her hand up his stomach and across his bare chest.

Scooting a little lower on the bed, John reached to release the button at the waistband of her pants, but froze when he saw that there were still faint green bruises extending across her hipbones. His stomach sank, but Teyla lifted her hips, wriggling a little with impatience and bringing him back to the moment. He bent down and placed a quick kiss on the largest of the bruises, then helped her tug her pants and underwear down her thighs in one motion. Kicking off the pants, she pushed them from the bed with her feet and turned to lie on her side facing him.

She was naked now, and John wanted to stop, put everything on hold so he could just take in her long, lean legs, the way her hips curved into her waist, the expanse of golden skin that almost shimmered in the lamplight. But Teyla had already pushed him onto his back and was reaching for the waistband of his pants, releasing the button and pulling down the zipper. Palm flat, she ran her hand down his stomach and reached inside his boxers. His erection strained in her hand as she caressed up and down his length, fingers splayed around the heat of him.

John's gasp stuck in lungs, and he wanted to pull away from her touch because the sensation was so powerful, but instead he pushed forward into her hand, closing his eyes and clenching his jaw with the intensity of pleasure. When Teyla released his arousal and moved to pull his pants down the rest of the way, John sat up to help her, pushing his pants and underwear down his legs and kicking them away.

He lay back, reaching to pull her close, but Teyla had already scooted down in the bed and was placing her mouth against his stomach and running her tongue down from his navel. He looked down as Teyla licked lower, and she finally took him into her mouth. At the feel of Teyla's wet mouth descending over his throbbing erection, John inhaled the electric air sharply, clutching at the sheet under him.

"Oh, God, Teyla," he groaned. It felt too decadent to lie there and let her satisfy him, but he remembered that just hours ago, she had let him pleasure her, so he forced himself to hold still and breathe deeply as her tongue swirled around him hypnotically.

"Jesus," John finally panted, and sat up, reaching for her delicate shoulders and pulling her up next to him. "I can only take so much of that," he murmured, lowering her gently to lie on her back beside him. She lay on the edge of the circle of light from the lamp, and her hair spread out like a halo on the pillow behind her.

"You did not like that?" Teyla teased, grinning up at him archly.

"No, no, I liked it just fine, trust me. I just... I want to do this together," John breathed, propping himself up on his elbow beside her and reaching down to run his finger in a circle around her belly button.

Teyla's smile softened and she lifted a hand to his jaw, pulling him down to kiss her, and John went willingly. The fact that he was here with her—that Teyla wanted him like this and was so freely affectionate with him—was still sinking in, and his heart pinched almost painfully with the relief of it. He slipped one hand behind her neck and opened his mouth against hers, sliding his tongue across her mouth, his heart on his lips.

Teyla lifted both arms around John and ran her hands through his hair, returning his kiss with a passion that to John felt like flying white sparks.

Sliding his hand from under her neck, he traced across her collarbone to the dip at the base of her neck and reveled in the feel of her satin skin under his fingers. His hand cupped around her breast, and he lifted his lips from hers and lowered his mouth to her chest. At the back of her throat, Teyla made a small noise that John remembered from their last encounter, and he felt his erection twitch rigidly against her thigh.

John licked across her breast, tracing circles around her bronze areola with his tongue, lifting his mouth every few moments to let the cool air caress her straining nipple, and he felt her hands clench in his hair. Skimming his mouth over to her other breast, he continued to lick against her, but slid his hand gently down her ribs and across her belly, lowering his hand to cup her mound with his fingers.

Teyla pushed against his hand, murmuring in pleasure, and John slid one finger down her wet crease to stroke around her entrance. Slowly pushing inside her, John felt Teyla's internal muscles clench around his finger, and the knowledge that he could affect her like this made every part of his groin tighten.

He paused to glance up at her. "Do we need protection? There might be something in the nightstand," he said, concerned, and realized belatedly that he probably should have prepared a little better.

Teyla shook her head, breathing heavily. "I have been taking birth control pills that Dr. Beckett gave me. My last exams were negative."

John nodded, "Mine were too," and as he lowered his mouth to her breast again. That she was not afraid to have him inside her, that she actually wanted him in her body, nearly took his breath away with anticipation. He pumped his finger inside her twice more, then withdrew his hand and lifted his mouth from her breast.

"Teyla," he breathed, a little shaky, "stop me if it's too much, okay?"

She nodded, face tense with arousal, and shifted her legs apart so John could situate himself between her thighs. Teyla lifted one knee higher, pressing her inner thigh against his hip, as he used his hand to place the swollen tip of his erection against her wet opening. He lingered for a moment at her entrance, with just the head of his arousal inside her, teasing them both. Finally her nails sunk into his forearm, so he pushed into her slowly, already panting and struggling to keep his composure.

Teyla exhaled sharply, and John looked down at her, worried for a moment that he'd bumped one of her injuries. But her eyes were closed and her face was blissful, so he pressed deeper until he was buried inside her. The feel of her internal muscles clenched around him was breathtaking, and John laid over her, keeping most of his weight on his right side, away from her injured ribs.

Teyla's slender body fit neatly beneath his own, and he realized how much larger he was than her—she was such a fierce warrior that he sometimes forgot how small she was. She was powerful, with elegant legs and slim waist, and the fact that she could lay him flat in a fight only made her petiteness more attractive.

Bending down to kiss her forehead, John closed his eyes, then thrust up into her once, hard. He groaned at the sensation and repeated it, rocking against her as Teyla lifted her legs around him and urged him even further into her.

Teyla's fingertips dug into his spine, and he plunged into her again and again, the exquisite, wet slide of her building a pressure that John could feel all the way to his lower back. She slid her hands lower to grasp his buttocks, gripping him tightly and urging him to grind even harder against her.

The tension in Teyla peaked, and John felt her nipples growing hot against his chest, and she whimpered, her breath warm on his neck. Over and over, her inner muscles spasmed around his arousal, her thighs gripping his hips as she pressed her mouth into his neck to smother her cries. John closed his eyes tightly, intensely aroused by Teyla's delighted reaction to his body inside hers, and held his breath as she climaxed.

When she finally sighed and dropped her head back on the pillow to look up at him, her face flushed and eyes bright, John began rocking against her again, his lips at her ear. He whispered her name over and over, as much to make real to himself that this was Teyla holding him in her arms, as to express his affection for her.

John wanted to be gentle with her, but it felt so good to drive inside her, to feel her wet and swollen around him now. His impulse was to bury his face in Teyla's neck, but John forced himself to look her in the eye, to be as open with her as she had been with him, to let her watch him as she carried him to the brink of ecstasy.

The flood of sensations in his body became overwhelming, and John orgasmed inside Teyla in a sudden rush. Biting his lip and clenching his hand in her hair at the wave of bliss that swept over him, he felt his hot seed gush from him and fill her. The lamp glowed brighter and the world held still as Teyla watched him climax. It was difficult to not look away, but John saw only satisfaction and pleasure in Teyla's eyes, none of the judgment or detachment he had always feared he would find.

When the pleasure finally ebbed, he dropped his head, resting his cheek against her collarbone, and tried to catch his breath. Teyla lay tranquilly beneath him, her fingers tracing delicate patterns over his back and shoulders, and above her collarbone he could see the almost imperceptible throb of her pulse. Her arms were tight around him and John let himself relax against her, let her hold his weight as his muscles loosened in relief.

"You're more than I deserve, Teyla," John whispered, lips against her skin, and he closed his eyes tightly, feeling the unworthiness sliding around in his stomach as it always did when he took more than he should. He realized now that he'd withheld himself from Teyla for so long as punishment—punishment for waking the Wraith, punishment for all the death he'd brought to her galaxy, punishment for all the wrong he'd ever done.

"John, you need not do anything to earn my affection," Teyla said quietly, her voice an anchor in the silence around them. "I give it freely." Her fingers slid up to his neck and across his jaw to caress his cheek.

John relaxed into her touch and was surprised to find that he believed her.

TBC


	9. Chapter 9

**Title:** Deliverance, Chapter 9 of 9  
><strong>Rating:<strong> M  
><strong>Warnings:<strong> None  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> I don't own Stargate or its characters.

**Comments:** This story is loosely based on the episode "Critical Mass." Emphasis on "loosely." It's set somewhat before the canon episode. Some lines are taken directly from the episode and belong to the writers and producers. "Critical Mass" was written by Brad Wright & Carl Binder.

**NOTE:** Thank you all **so very much** for your kind reviews throughout this story. I had so much fun writing it and so much fun reading your reactions to it. Hope you enjoy this last chapter.

**Chapter 9**

A single seagull called out, hovering above the city, riding the breeze. Elizabeth watched as the bird soar above her, barely flapping its wings as it floated, motionless on an updraft of warm air from the ocean rolling below.

Closing her eyes and breathing deeply, Elizabeth gripped the railing and let the wind stream against her as it lifted her shirt from her back and tangled her hair. She should be inside, greeting Colonel Sheppard and Teyla as they beamed down from the Daedalus, but for once Elizabeth had ignored protocol.

The oddness of hearing Ellis radio down from the Daedalus, announcing his presence and requesting permission to land on the south pier, had deflated Elizabeth. It wasn't that she had expected it to be Steven.

It was that the scenario had been played out so many times in the last year, and today every detail had been the same, except that the voice radioing from the Daedalus had been the wrong one. And Elizabeth had felt suddenly strangled in the canned air of her office and thought that if she sat in that stale room for a minute longer, she would snap her stylus in half.

The seagull cried again, and Elizabeth reflected that it was a little late in the day for seagulls to be hovering over the city—they usually returned to the beaches of the mainland around noon. She bent over the railing slightly, looking down at the city. The view used to make her dizzy, but now she could gaze down from the height of the control tower into the depths of the city without trepidation.

Three weeks ago the SGC had informed her that Colonel Sheppard and Teyla would eventually be arriving on the Daedalus, now under the command of Colonel Ellis. The Tok'ra extraction had gone well, and Caldwell's body had been returned to its rightful owner.

Landry had told her that Colonel Caldwell had been exonerated of all charges, but added in an offhand manner that Steven would not be returning to Atlantis; he had in fact elected to take retirement and stay on Earth. Elizabeth didn't blame Steven for not returning to Atlantis. She couldn't imagine how difficult it would have been for him to face Teyla and everyone else in the city after what had happened.

The extraction of the Goa'uld in Lieutenant Cadman had been successful but a little more difficult than Caldwell's. Laura was recovering in the SGC infirmary, although she would likely be returning on the Daedalus's next trip from Earth, and Elizabeth was sure John would be glad to have Cadman back in the city.

Elizabeth told herself she would not miss Steven. The nature of their relationship had not been one of attachment—it had been fleeting and ephemeral, based solely on mutual respect and the need for some kind of personal interaction.

But she did ache for his loss, the loss of his career, of his ideals. She knew that Steven had had every intention of continuing his military career, and she knew that this experience must have truly changed him if he'd decided to give that up. She found herself hoping that he would find someone, settle down, and discover some kind of satisfaction in a new life, even if she—

Elizabeth firmly shut down that line of thinking. She had far too much responsibility to indulge in emotional distractions—it would split her focus and her work would suffer.

Inhaling the sea air deeply one last time, Elizabeth turned from the railing and moved through the doors, back into the control room. She would go greet John and Teyla later this evening, but for now her city hummed with life and a to-do list called to her, siren-like.

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0

.

The dazzling white light of the beam from the Daedalus flashed in the gate room and then was gone, leaving Sheppard and Teyla in its wake. Ronon bounded forward, grinning, and wrapped his arms around Teyla enthusiastically. Remembering Teyla's injuries at the last moment, he pulled away gingerly, worried.

Teyla laughed at him, extending her arms to him. "Ronon, it has been six weeks since my injury. I am fine." She reached in and embraced him fiercely, and Ronon relaxed, returning her hug.

"Sheppard," he crowed, releasing Teyla and grabbing the Colonel in a crushing bear hug. Ronon lifted him up from the ground and swung him around, setting him back down and slapping him on the back hard. Sheppard groaned, but Ronon could tell by the grin on his face that Sheppard was as happy to see Ronon as Ronon was to see him.

"How was that three week trip on the Daedalus?" Ronon asked. "Super boring, I bet." He was skilled at keeping a straight face when teasing, but he only just managed to hold in his laughter this time.

Teyla looked sideways, mouth open, but said nothing, and Sheppard just nodded casually. "Yeah," he agreed weakly, looking down. "Super boring."

Ronon finally allowed himself to laugh, guffawing at their attempted nonchalance. "Right," he snickered. "All that time alone together, bored out of your minds..." He punched Sheppard on the arm, grinning maniacally.

Teyla's cheeks flushed slightly, but Ronon could see the beginnings of a smile fighting at the corner of her mouth. Sheppard just shrugged and shoved his hands in his pockets, but Ronon saw the smug smile on his mouth too, and laughed at him again.

"Anyway," Sheppard emphasized the word heavily, rolling his eyes, "What have we missed around here? Anything exciting?"

Ronon considered. Things had been really dull without Sheppard and Teyla around, but that was something he would never admit to them. He had been so bored that he'd resorted to torturing and teasing McKay, until the man had taken to locking the door to his lab as he worked.

"I went on a few missions with Lorne, but you know... it's not quite the same. He's not reckless enough for my taste," Ronon grinned, showing all his teeth. "McKay's been working on getting the city's computers back to normal, and Beckett's been moping around about Cadman."

Ronon couldn't keep the grin off his face at seeing them, and he hoped they didn't think he was some kind of sap, but their smiles seemed just as enthusiastic.

"What did you think of Earth? Is it as amazing as Sheppard makes it out to be?" Ronon quizzed Teyla.

"It is even more amazing than he has said, although we did not travel far from the SGC." Teyla informed him. "John took me to the Broadmoor hotel, which was very luxurious." She smiled over at Sheppard and Ronon saw a soft smile on the Colonel's face that he'd never seen before.

"And he took me to the top of a mountain on a train. Pikes Peak." Teyla paused, looking over at Sheppard to make sure she had gotten the name right. He nodded at her. "It was extremely cold, but the view was indeed amazing."

Teyla reached out and touched Ronon's arm. "We are happy to see you, too, Ronon," she said. She reached down to pick up her bag and looked back up at him. "And I am most excited to see my people, especially Charin. Have you heard any news about how she is faring?"

Ronon felt his smile twist sideways and fall flat. This was the moment he'd been dreading. Best to get it over with.

He hesitated. "Your people are fine, Teyla. But Charin's really sick. She's in the infirmary with Beckett. You better... you should go see her now." He saw Teyla's face fall and her eyes go blank as she realized what Ronon was saying. Without a word, she turned and strode down the corridor toward the infirmary.

Ronon watched Teyla leave. He hated being the one to give Teyla the bad news, but figured it should come from him first. Ronon looked back at Sheppard, knowing that the guy would be as upset for Teyla as he was. Probably more.

Sheppard looked up at him, the unspoken question in his eyes: how bad was it? Ronon just dropped his eyes to the floor and shook his head. When he looked back up, Sheppard was nodding slowly, and he knew Sheppard understood that Charin was not going to make it.

Both men heaved a sigh and turned to leave the gate room. "You about ready to get back to work? How about we head out on a mission tomorrow?" Ronon asked. He was ready to for the team to be back together, and would've gone through the gate that afternoon if he had thought he could talk anybody into it.

"Yeah, actually, I am ready. I'm not complaining about all that time cooped up on the Daedalus," Sheppard said casually, looking sideways with that smug smile, "but I'm definitely ready to get back out there."

"Great," Ronon said, slapping him on the back again. "I'm tired of beating up Marines. I'm ready to beat up some Wraith. Or Genii. Or whoever. Doesn't really matter," he grinned.

"I'll try to arrange that," chuckled Sheppard. He started to head toward the infirmary, then paused. "Maybe I'll give her a few minutes before I head down there," he muttered, mostly to himself, and turned instead toward his room.

"Good to have you back, Sheppard," Ronon called as he headed down the corridor toward the gym, figuring that Sheppard would want to be alone with Teyla.

"Good to be back," Sheppard called over his shoulder.

As sad as Ronon felt about giving Teyla the news about Charin, he was still thrilled for this new development between Teyla and Sheppard. Ronon had begun to think that they'd never get over their hang ups and get together, but he could see they finally had, and was happy for them.

Of course they hadn't exactly confirmed anything, but Ronon wasn't blind. All he needed to read them was the expression on their faces, the way they held themselves, the tone of their voices.

Ronon always hid how much he knew about his friends, not wanting them to realize how much he gleaned from what they didn't say.

Ronon knew that Weir was in love Atlantis, that she'd never willingly leave the city again. He knew that McKay's arrogance and rudeness came from a deep well of insecurity that McKay never acknowledged to himself. Beckett was the most fearful man Ronon knew, and he knew that every single day, the doctor was terrified of what unknown thing might happen. But Beckett faced each fear without ever saying a word, and that also made him the bravest man that Ronon knew.

Ronon tried to not turn this perceptivness on himself, but occasionally he had moments of clarity, and recognized the jagged hole in his chest that was Sateda. Ronon no longer ran from the Wraith, but he still ran from thoughts of friends and family, of the betrayal of one man, of lives crushed by fire and rubble, and he didn't know if he would ever stop running from those memories.

Ronon headed down the hallway, looking out the windows at the sparkling city as he went. The sun was bright and it looked like a warm day with little wind. It looked like a good day for a run on the west pier.

.

0

.

Teyla hurried down the halls, feeling she was in a dream in which she could never arrive at her destination, moving sluggishly as though she were trapped in slow motion. The corridors of Atlantis seemed endless, and although she registered that people were passing her in the hallway, she couldn't hear their voices or stop to speak to them.

Ronon's face as he had told her the news had conveyed to her how near the end Charin was. She wondered how long Charin had been sick, and a wave of guilt crashed into her at the thought that she had not been there for Charin as she had wasted away.

But Teyla knew she could not regret those three weeks on the Daedalus. Those weeks had been some of the best of her life, as she spent her days working with crewmembers, learning the computer systems of the Daedalus, and her nights with John.

And oh, those nights. John and Teyla had been discreet, not entering the other's quarters until most personnel were off duty or asleep, never behaving anything but professionally toward each other during the day. But at night he would come to her room, or she would go to his, and she could not remember a time when she had gotten so little sleep but been so happy about it.

They had made love over and over, making up for lost time, the pulsing blue light of hyperspace rushing past the window as they held each other, reveling in every moment of contact. Their love making had been sometimes exquisitely tender, sometimes furious and fast, sometimes slow and so erotic that Teyla thought she would burst into flame.

And it was not just the physical moments when they joined that had filled her with joy. It was the intimacy of lying in bed together, faces close and limbs intertwined; of endless conversations, discussing their past, their ideals, their hopes, with each other. They had relived so many of their shared memories, revealing the thoughts and feelings they had hidden as they had interacted over the years.

John had opened up to her more than he ever had, and Teyla now understood much more of what drove him, of what mattered to him. And she had shared with him as well, allowing him to see her as she was, a woman with needs and desires and dreams. Teyla knew that this was a new beginning for her, and for John, and she thrilled with the knowledge that he loved her, that she loved him, that they now belonged to each other.

And she might never be able to share this with Charin, to let Charin know that her advice that day in the tent had changed her. Teyla rushed through the door of the infirmary, eyes searching for her friend. Dr. Beckett looked up from where he stood at his desk and crossed the room to meet her.

"Teyla," he said. "It's good to have you back in Atlantis." But Teyla saw the crease in his brow, the sadness in his eyes, and knew that his thoughts were not happy ones.

"Carson," she demanded. "Where is she? What happened?"

Dr. Beckett sighed, looking away, and she saw that he dreaded telling her this news. But he turned back, looking her in the eye, and set his hand on her arm.

"It's her heart, Teyla. She fell ill shortly after you left for Earth, and it weakened the muscles of her heart. I'm afraid there's nothing I can do for her now but give her something for the pain." He hesitated, then continued. "I think she's been waiting for you, luv." Carson patted her arm and gestured with his hand. "She's this way."

Teyla followed him, insensible to the world around her and feeling as though she could not breathe, that her own heart had constricted in her chest and could never beat again. They reached Charin's bed, and Carson stepped away quietly.

"Charin," Teyla breathed, her heart clenching further at the sight of her dear friend so near death. Charin's skin was pale and drawn, her fingers frail and motionless on the bed beside her, white hair spread out on the pillow like a shroud. Teyla reached out and gripped one fragile hand in hers as tears rose in her eyes and spilled over her cheeks.

"Charin," she repeated. Teyla's heart leaped when Charin opened her eyes slowly, searching for the source of her voice.

"I am here," Teyla spoke, reaching to place her hand against the old woman's cheek. Charin turned to her, a slow smile breaking across her weathered face.

"Teyla," she uttered, the lines of her face falling into a pleased expression. "You have come."

"Yes," Teyla said, closing her eyes against the tears as she grasped Charin's hand and held it to her cheek. "I am here." She tried to burn the feel of Charin's hand into her memory, knowing that her friend was slipping further away with each passing minute.

Charin merely nodded and pressed her fingers against Teyla's, a pressure so faint that it felt like butterfly wings.

"Charin, I am so sorry I was not here when you fell ill," Teyla said, trying to keep her voice steady, but inside she felt only a vast emptiness.

"Even had you been here, you could not have changed anything," Charin assured her. "Life does not go on forever. I am not afraid of death. I welcome this." Her smile was peaceful and genuine and Teyla's muscles loosened a little in relief.

"Charin, I want to tell you something." Teyla took a deep breath. "Do you remember the last time we spoke, when you told me that I needed someone with whom to share my burdens?" Teyla had lowered Charin's hand to the bed, still gripping it tightly.

Charin smiled up at her. "Of course, Teyla."

"I want you to know that— that I have found someone to share my life with," Teyla said haltingly. She had told no one yet of what had happened between her and John, and she felt vulnerable saying it aloud for the first time. But she wanted Charin to know that she had affected her deeply and guided her, just as she had when Teyla was a girl.

Charin's eyes lit up for a moment and she pressed Teyla's hand more firmly. "Teyla, I am so glad. You deserve this happiness." She paused for a moment, then looked at Teyla intently. "I do not suppose this someone is Colonel Sheppard," she said quietly, and Teyla thought she saw an almost mischievous sparkle in her friend's eye.

Teyla gasped a little and laughed. "Did you know all along, Charin?"

"I am old, but not blind, Teyla. You merely needed a push toward where you already knew you belonged." Charin sighed and Teyla could see a deep fatigue in her eyes, but Charin continued. "I am ending one journey and embarking another, but your journey is just beginning, and I am pleased that you will not be making it alone."

Teyla nodded, and a single tear slipped down her cheek and trailed over her lips. "I will miss you, Charin. You have been as family to me," she said, and this time she could not keep the quaver from her voice.

Charin just patted Teyla's hand and fell silent, her eyes closing.

Teyla stayed with Charin, waiting with her friend in her final moments. Carson came over to check on them, then slipped away quietly. Teyla sat listening to her friend's labored breathing for what seemed a long time. Charin finally drew in one last deep breath and opened her eyes for just a moment. "Teyla," she murmured. "The journey begins."

The old woman's eyes closed and her face relaxed into lines of deep peacefulness.

The pulse in her friend's hand went still and the tone of the monitor behind her went flat, and Teyla's breath stilled in her lungs for a moment. Her friend was gone, the woman who had been as a grandmother to her, the woman who had raised her. Teyla took a shuddering breath and gently laid Charin's hand to rest on the bed and stood from her chair, wiping away tears that were quickly replaced with new ones.

Teyla felt a warmth behind her, a solid chest at her shoulder, and a strong hand slip around her waist. "John," she said, her voice a strangled sob, and she turned to him, pressing her face into his shoulder and squeezing her eyes tightly shut.

He said nothing, just held her against him. His hand rubbed up and down her back, and Teyla allowed her tears to dampen his uniform, pressing into him and gripping his arms. His strength seemed to seep into her and though her sorrow did not diminish, she knew that she did not have to bear it alone.

Teyla lifted her face from John's chest, wiping at her tears again and trying to slow her breathing.

"John..." she began, voice still trembling.

"I was waiting in the other room... I thought you might want a few minutes alone with her," he said quietly and pulled her a little tighter to him.

She nodded. "I am glad you are here now," she whispered, clinging to him for a few moments more.

Finally she pulled away, dragging in a lungful of air. "I must go speak to Carson, arrange some things. Will you come with me?" she asked, and his dear face was an anchor in the storm of her grief.

John looked down at her, his hands on her arms. "Of course," was all he said, but Teyla saw the concern in his eyes, the love that made him hurt when she hurt.

"Thank you." She smoothed her hair and looked up at him, hoping that he would see in her eyes her gratitude for his presence. "There is a tea that Charin made for me. Perhaps tonight we could drink it to honor her," she said.

"I was just thinking I would like some tea," John said quietly, squeezing her hand.

.

FIN


End file.
